


War Trophy

by TheBobblehat



Category: Avengers, Marvel, Thor - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, Thorki - Freeform, alterniate universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 112,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBobblehat/pseuds/TheBobblehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War has raged on between Asgard and Jotunheim for a decade. The bloodshed ends only by way of a treaty. To ensure his good faith, Laufey sends his youngest son to the royal family of Asgard to serve the city's prince. But neither servant nor master are too thrilled to be so.</p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p>Based on the lovely fanart by kisu-no-hi on Tumblr, seen here: http://kisu-no-hi.tumblr.com/post/35864012793/who-doesnt-like-some-wartrophy-loki </p>
<p>Brace yourself. There will be sex.</p>
<p>Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trophy

Asgard. It was just as the legends described. A city of gold and splendor. Men, women and children living a life ease and opulence. Crops seemed to never fail in growing. The smells of the market filled the air with the perfumes of baking bread and fresh honey. The sun was bright, blessing the kingdom with a grace and charm not seen among lesser lands. Asgard was a place of heaven and Loki could, in some sense, be awed by its scope. In spite of the cold irons dangling from his wrists. True, he should be scowling in anger and disgust at such a city. After all, this was to be his prison. Yet Loki could not bring himself to detest his scenery. All his life, he'd known nothing but the ice and bitter cold of the mountains of Jotunheim, where a simple blade of grass was the beginning and end to a warm summer. To see something so rich with color and life was... beyond him.  
  
Currently, he was taken towards the front gates of the palace. And what a palace it was. If the city itself was something awe inspiring, it was nothing compared to the golden columns of the palace. It stretched tall, like the many peeks of his homeland. The highest tip nearly blocked out the vibrant sun. The closer they came, the more dwarfed Loki felt in comparison. Through the stalls and merchant stands they walked, he and the three guards who escorted him. Heads turned with every step. As the crowd thickened, only then did Loki take notice. Rather than shift his eyes, Loki held his head high. Even in this moment of shame, he would rather die than show weakness. But the Asgardians could not help themselves. After all, a Frost Giant was a rare sight for the common folk of the realm.  
  
For Loki was a sight to be held. His skin was an icy blue, rivets and swirls of white decorating it. While the chains on his wrists were to keep his hands bound, they were of a fine make, painted gold for a more pleasing aesthetic. He wore a thin tunic of silk, trousers of satin, and bangles and braids of gold showering his arms and neck. A gold circlet wrapped around his crown and up his horns, with small chains hanging down to the thick tufts of his hair. He was small for a Jotun. Probably too small to be considered a Frost Giant. But one look of his red eyes was all that was needed to confirm his heritage. He was a creature of ice, and now, would live his days in a land of fire.  
  
His bare feet walked up the palace steps, eyes now focused on the slow opening doors of the giant before him. Loki had never been one to express fear. But as he stared into the behemoth of a great hall, he could not disguise his weary gaze. What would he be like? This prince of Asgard. If his father was right in any respects, Loki would be shocked if he survived a week. Asgardian men, after all, were loutish brutes, who raved off meed and meat, taking all that stood in their path. Loki was not amiss with a blade, by any means, but against a savage with no weapon? He would be obliterated before he had a chance.  
  
Loki's heart pounded as his feet padded against the marble floors. As he walked, the nobles of the Asgardian palace began to emerge. Some were warriors, having been seen in battle many a time. Others were men and women of scrolls, their eyes more piercing than their counterparts' weapons. Loki refused to give any of them a glance. He refused to allow them the satisfaction.  
  
Finally, Loki was stopped before another pair of doors. These were far less huge than the former, yet still he felt his heart quiver with anxiety. Behind these doors stood the man who would control the rest of his life. By now, the amazement of the grand city had worn off. Loki felt a sullen anger well within him, and only then did he lower his glare to the marble stone.  
  
“Wait here,” said a guard. “I shall see if they are ready to receive us.” With that, the golden cloaked man slipped between the crack of the doors. Standing on the other side of it, Loki could hear voices. Deep, commanding voices that rang out like thunder. At first, it was difficult to understand them. But after straining himself, Loki could focus on the conversation in the other room.  
  
“...These are not the grounds for a treaty. This is the act of a slaver, not a king!”  
  
“Would you have it the other way? With Asgardians and Jotuns fighting until every last drop of blood was spilled?”  
  
“You know I would not-”  
  
“Yet you so eagerly joined the battle when it began.”  
  
“Yes, when I was a boy! When I was young and convinced that such an act would be valiant!”  
  
“And now it is over! If you need peace, make it in that fact!”  
  
The voices paused only to allow the guard to quietly announce that Loki had arrived. All went quiet within the room, and Loki felt his insides tighten. Lifting his chin, he stared forward as firmly as he would allow. He would not cry. He'd done his share of crying when Laufey told him the news of this treaty. He swore he would not shed a single tear after.  
  
When the doors opened, Loki was brought inside. His eyes immediately went to the two men standing before a throne. The first he immediately recognized as Odin. Still so frightening in his older years. His face was hard, chipped only by age. The king of Asgard wore a breast plate on ceremony, though Loki could see the nicks and scrapes of time old battles within its metal. And to his right, stood the man Loki could only assume was Thor, the prince of Asgard.  
  
His new master.  
  
Like Asgard itself, Loki was taken aback by the grand nature of the man before him. His shoulders were broad, hidden only by a blue shawl draped beneath his wild mane of golden hair. Thor's eyes were bluer than any summer sky Loki had gazed upon. Strong hands rested at his thighs, gauntlets of metal wrapped around his wrists and knuckles. His jaw, crowned with budding whiskers, was set and tight, those dark brown brows knit firmly above his nose. Neither man seemed happy about the situation at hand.  
  
“Loki.” Odin's voice boomed against the walls of the throne room, his scepter held firmly. “Son of Laufey. Do you know why you are here?”  
  
Loki, having torn his eyes from Thor, popped his brow. “Dinner?”  
  
While Thor's eyebrows rose in surprise at the jib, Odin's only grew darker. “If I were you, I would not make light of the situation.”  
  
“Of course. From what I hear, Asgardians don't make light of anything.” His eyes, very pointedly, darted to Odin's stomach. By now, a few of the guards were staring at each other in awe of their prisoner's gall. Regardless, Odin continued.  
  
“Your father sent you here as a mere bargaining chip. The treaty between the people of Jotunheim and Asgard will remain sturdy. To prove his intentions, Laufey has sent his youngest son to serve my own.” Almost instantly, Thor turned away, his jaw grinding. “The fate of both our worlds relies solely on your obedience.”  
  
Loki screwed his face slightly. “Then it looks like the two worlds are out of luck.” He and Thor caught eyes. “Sad to say, I don't listen very well.”  
  
“Then you will learn to.” Fed up with the conversation, Odin turned to Thor, his scepter brandished forward. “And you, my ungrateful heir, will take this prisoner and teach him manners.” Thor's sneer was barely with-held, though his eyes betrayed his distaste. “Now begone. The both of you.” With that, the king left his son alone with his newest war trophy.  
  
Thor turned to the Jotun, his eyes uncertain. Yet he kept his shoulders straight as he approached. Like the palace itself, Thor grew larger with every inch he advanced. Before long, they were within a foot of each other. Thor was at least a head taller than the ice prince, and twice as wide. The man was a beast. He turned to the guards, his voice firm.  
  
“I can escort him to my chambers. You're dismissed.”  
  
Nodding at the order, the guards marched out of the throne room, leaving only the master and slave to themselves. Thor was silent, staring at Loki with a curious expression. One of anger and determination and disgust, all mixed in together. Loki, meanwhile, merely cocked a half-hearted smirk.  
  
“Am I to call you 'Master' now?”  
  
“You are to call me nothing.”  
  
“Alright. You are nothing.”  
  
Thor's cheek twitched, his lids lowering to a very unamused expression. “Is jest all you understand?”  
  
Loki scoffed. “Why... I'm offended, Prince of Asgard. I know far more than to jest! Like... to read, for example. Something I'm sure a man like you doesn't bother with.”  
  
A strained smile hit Thor's lips. “I'm sure you fancy yourself very funny.”  
  
Loki paused himself. “Well... yes.”  
  
“A fine time for laughter. I am to lord over you for the rest of both our days.”  
  
“Yet you are not the one laughing. Isn't this what all warriors want in the end?” Loki held up a chained hand. “Total victory?”  
  
Thor took a moment, eying the golden irons that held his wrists. Reaching forward, Thor held up both hands by the middle of the chain. “You will not wear these.” With both hands, Thor managed to snap the chain in half, two bits of a broken link falling to Loki's feet. For once, the Jotun was pleasantly surprised.  
  
“A master who leaves his slave unchained.” Loki couldn't help the tiny smile on his lips. “Are you slow by nature or by nurture, I wonder?”  
  
“Only a coward restrains an unarmed man.”  
  
“And if I become armed?”  
  
“Then I will respond in kind.”  
  
Frowning, Loki put his hands on his narrow hips. “You are the odd sort, Prince of Asgard.” A full fledged smile came to his lips then. Pushing his luck, he pinched Thor's cheek. “And so serious.” Thor knocked the hand away, making Loki laugh. Without a word, Thor turned, motioning Loki to follow. He did so, if only to satiate his own curiosity.  
  
The odd sort indeed. Of the few Asgardians Loki had actually met, almost all of them were power hungry, heathen louts. Thor was brutish by his very nature, but he was restrained. Like a beast who had not yet known hunger. Or a beast who had, but had dealt with it long ago. By all accounts his master could have been far worse. An image came to Loki's mind of one particular Asgardian soldier he saw in the war. A big, fat, bearded man who sweated profusely every time he wielded his axe. Thinking about a man like that owning him honestly gave a bit more perspective to the situation.  
Ascending the stairs, Loki glanced around Thor's tree-trunk arm to see the doors down the hallway, leading into the prince's quarters. “So,” Loki began. “I can only assume my slavery-”  
  
“Servitude.”  
  
“-was not your doing.”  
  
“Twas not I who wrote the treaty, nor I who sent for you.”  
  
“Ah. So then why agree? Surely you and Odin could have barked over it until the issue got resolved.”  
  
“It is not my place to deny the king's orders.” Thor paused at the door, turning to his newfound servant. “Nor is it yours to deny Laufey's.” Loki's face fell immediately, eyes turning away. It seemed they were both bound by the will of their father.  
  
Leaving the subject hanging, Thor turned back and opened the door to his chambers. It was a spacious area, with open windows looking out into the sea. A breeze drifted within, brushing against the red and gold drapes. The sun was close to setting, coating the room with an orange haze. Thor's bed was large and round, furs of every animal imaginable sewn together for warmth and comfort. To the right of it, a long table rested beneath the window sill. A washbowl and towels sat upon it. To the left of the bed, an open balcony allowed the air to flow freely. And hanging above the headboard, hoisted up on a plaque, was a hammer. Its handle was wrapped in leather, its metal head inscribed with so many symbols and inscriptions that they matched the designs of Loki's own skin.  
  
“Mjolnir,” Thor said, noticing his gaze. “A weapon crafted for me by my father's finest blacksmith.”  
  
“Forged in a dying star,” Loki said, almost automatically.  
  
“You've heard the story then?”  
  
Finding himself caught, Loki scoffed. “Every idiot bard and harem whore from here to Helheim sings of your brutish nature. Who hasn't heard the tale of 'the Mighty Thor'?”  
  
Thor actually smiled at that. Loki was taken aback. A row of perfect, pearl teeth befitting of such a carved face. “Harems?” he asked.  
  
Loki felt heat come to his blue cheeks. “What of it? Aren't all Asgardians quick to take the opportunity?” The rest of his words died within his throat. For Thor had inched forward, towering over the miniature Frost Giant. With Thor's piercing blue eyes in the foreground, and his overly sized bed in the background, Loki felt his blood rush at the sub text of it all.  
  
“Quick to take the opportunity,” he repeated. “Such as with the slave given to me by my father?”  
  
Loki's breath deepened, trying to calmly put up a defense against the mountain of a man. “I see. So this is what my service will mean. Bending to your every will and want.” He sneered. “So typical. Well I will tell you now, I will not crumble to your wishes, O Prince of Thunder. My wrists might be locked by chains, but I am a prince as well. A Prince of Jotunheim. And a Prince of Jotunheim does not lay down and take a man's fiendish desires.”  
  
“Oh?” Thor goaded.  
  
“I swear to you. Touch me and I shall fight to the bitter end.” Loki shed his glower to the side, his chest now filling with unbridled anger and embarrassment.  
“You take what you want without cause, don't you? You're all the same...”  
  
“Every Asgardian, or so you keep repeating.” Thor had moved in closer then, threatening to slip himself into Loki's space. He could feel the hot breath against his neck. “Well... Loki, Prince of Jotunheim...  
  
“You have not met every Asgardian.”  
  
Turning away, Thor stepped towards the door, leaving Loki winded and – admittedly – a little confused. He rounded to Thor, watching with suspicious eyes. But Thor made no move to lock the door, and left no hint that Loki would be assaulted. “Call for a bath if you wish. The trip has not been easy for you. If you are hungry, there are servants that will bring you food.” Thor lifted his head to Loki. “But if you escape, my father will know.”  
  
Loki was quiet for a great moment longer. Frankly, he didn't know how to react. Leaving his homeland, Loki had been told by many that he was to expect complete torture by the hands of the Asgardians. He would need to put on a tough skin, and endure pain and humiliation to no end. Perhaps go weeks without eating. And Loki had been prepared to endure, and to fight. And yet... there he stood. The promise of food and comfort at his fingertips. Was this a trick? It had to be.  
  
“Do you mean to fool me?”  
  
Thor smiled. Softly. Sweetly. In that smile, Loki saw a pity he did not want, yet desperately needed. A pity for the both of them. Master and slave, both forced to be so. “No.” The honesty in his voice was overbearing. “Now... I will return tonight.” With nothing else to be said, Thor left his room, and Loki was allowed to be alone for the first time since leaving Jotunheim.  
  
His legs were weakened by it all, and very slowly, he sat on the edge of Thor's bed. What a plush thing it was. Fit for a king. Loki's own back home was comfortable, but not nearly this lush. As he ran his fingers through the dense softness of the furs, Loki wondered if all he was experiencing was real. If Thor had remanded him, perhaps treated him unkindly, that he could understand. But this... Should Loki be anxious or simply count his blessings? Lifting himself from the bed, he turned, once more letting his eyes linger on Thor's famed hammer. It was said that only those worthy of its greatness could wield it. And so he wondered:  
  
Was Thor worthy?


	2. Celebration

There was nothing quite like a feast in the palace of Asgard.

Stepping into the great hall, Thor was greeted instantly by the cheers of his fellow warriors, who held their goblets aloft, knives brandished and ready for carving. Thor conjured up a smile for his many fighting mates, a tankard of wine already placed into his hand. It was a lively scene. The torches were lit, as the sun had already made its final bow. Yet there was no chill in the air. The world was too joyous to be chilly. With the stars above dancing for the faces below, it was the perfect night for a celebration in Asgard. A celebration, most notably, in Thor's honor.

"And here he is!" The ever charismatic voice of Fandral rang out like a spring bell. The man who approached Thor was sprightly and slender. His hair was neatly combed, his beard sharply cut. As always, a trail of eager maidens sat in waiting by his spot. His eyes twinkled as he slapped a hand on Thor's broad shoulder. "The hero of Asgard!"

Thor laughed, his own palm flat against Fandral's back as a form of embrace. "Ah, Fandral, you flatter me!"

"And you sell yourself short! Was it not you who lead these fine warriors into battle, hammer held high and blood burning?" A cheer of "aye!" came from the table, a few fists banging against the wood. "And was it not _you_ who landed the final blow on one of Laufey's own personal guardsmen?" One of the warriors, the ever widening Volstagg, rose his turkey leg in agreement. He was a rounded fellow, whose armor was constantly worked on to compensate for his impressive girth. Not that it slowed him down; in battle, Thor had seen Volstagg take down ten men in a row by simply charging them.

"Aye!" he boomed, meat flying from his bearded lips. "Shirk modesty, friend! It does not become you!" A round of laughter echoed from the table, a few claps and bangs against it following the statement. Thor couldn't help it. His smile widened, a little twinkle in his eye.

"Well... mayhap I had _some_ help."

"Here here." The Lady Siff, her own wine held up, got yet another chorus of laughter and cheers. Approaching, Thor clasped her shoulders from behind. Siff had always been a charming woman, belay the fact that she had bested most of the soldiers in Odin's army in their training bouts. Her dark haired beauty aside, it was her quick and sudden nature in battle that left most men baffled and helpless. A fact that she was quite proud of.

"My friends!" he announced. "You do me too much favor! For where would I be without the sharp, certain blades of Fandral or Hogun!" Both respective warriors smiled at one another, the former having taken up a quiet space near the end of the table. "Or perhaps the sudden and most assuredly final axe of faithful Volstagg!" The tubby man laughed, a few women crooning up close to him. "And, most importantly." Thor looked down to Siff, hands still on her shoulders. "I would be dead in the ground had the Lady Stiff not acted as swift as the eastern wind."

"Without question," Siff joked.

"Oh come on man!" Volstagg took another huge bite, of which he swallowed in one go, before holding it up as he spoke. "Your hammer's swing is beyond that of any act of a soldier! Come, come! We were there, but we could not have seen all of it! The war is over! Liven this feast with tales of it!"

"Yes!" Fandral chimed in, practically a twitter with eagerness. "The Battle of Vanaheim! You remember, Thor! Oh it was a marvelous bout." Taking up a carving knife, Fandral whipped it about in the air, already in a fighting stance. "We had gone days without sleep or aide -"

"Or food," Volstagg bemoaned.

"The Jotuns were closing in on us. Many men were already lost, and those who still fought were losing heart. And then you stood and said-" Fandral paused before turning to his friend, smile knowing. "Well... Perhaps it would do it justice for you to speak, Prince Of Thunder."

Thor smirked at his friend, before letting his eyes scope the rest of the feast. All attention was his. "Very well." Thor stepped to the front of the room, hand on Fandral's shoulder. "It was true. Those were dark days for us, my friend. Weak and weary, our forces were close to succumbing to Laufey's men. And so..." Thor swooped in, grabbing a soup spoon to hold high as he hopped onto the table, boot hoisted onto a turned over bowl. "With my hammer held, I called to those who so bravely fought by my side. 

"'Men,' said I. 'Friends. Brothers. Sisters. We fight a battle we stand very close to losing. We have seen the deaths of family today and these days past. But will we let it stop us? Will we crumble at the feet of Laufey like loose bread?!'" The table chuckled, a few raising their cups in a toast. "'Nay,' says I. 'Nay here and now! We are more than men! We are _Asgardian!_ And by the born rights of all Asgardian warriors, it is our duty - our _privilege_ \- to protect the Nine Realms as if each one was our home! And we will NOT give way to those who threaten our home! Should each and every one of us die at the end of a blade, let it not be said _that we did not die with honor!'_ " A great noise accompanied the end of Thor's speech as the prince leapt to the floor, spoon in hand. "Ah, but this was not the end of it!" Drunk on his story, Thor flailed the spoon about the air, he hoisted it to the sky. "And that morning at dawn, there they were. Thousands of them. Frost Giants of every size, brandishing every conceivable weapon. We were outmatched. Outnumbered. Yet we charged at the oncoming force with a bravery that no generation has seen since or after!" Another cry of joy. "Through the Jotun wave we crashed! Like breaking through a wave of the ocean! And what a fight was fought! With Mjolnir guiding my way, I - by the side of my dearest companions - tore through them like fenrir through dain!" As the voices around him hollered for more, Thor took pause in his story, staring at the ladle in his hand.

Yes. An impressive battle it was. A victory for the people of Asgard. Now that the fight was over and they had won, the Battle of Vanahiem would be sung about by children and their children's children until the end of days. But at the time... at the time, it was not glorious. It was not a scene befitting a ballad of heroes. 

It was cold. Very cold. It was wet, too. The rain had slicked the mud beneath their feet, making every step a harder chore than it should have been. The blood that littered the ground only added to the slimy surface of their battleground. Thor had fought through Jotun after Jotun. Attacks had flown to him at every angle. It got to a point where blood had fallen into his eyes, and everything he saw was covered in red. Red Jotuns. Red Asgardians. Enemy and friend, strewn together in piles of death and decay. There was nothing glorious about that.

"-Thor! I say, Thor!"

The Asgardian prince was taken from his thoughts as Fandral approached with his tankard of wine. "Enough story telling. Come! There is food and drink to last us a life time."

Thor put on a small smile. "Nothing can last us a lifetime, Fandral." More laughter came from the jest and Thor settled himself in his seat, a plate of food hot and waiting for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki had been unable to sleep. Curled up on the very edge of Thor's bed, he stared out the open window. The world was grey, in the way that only the early morning sky could produce. It painted over the once vibrant world of Asgard with a blanket of somber tones. Not even the birds sang at this early hour. Loki had watched the stars move downward until they were nearly gone from the sky. The sun would be up within the hour. All that time, Loki had been thinking.

Thinking about Thor. About this place. About the utter change in his life. Turning to his back, Loki put a hand on his forehead. He was defrocked by now, his golden bangles placed on the wash table by the bed. He now lay only in his trousers and tunic, the gentle breeze slipping through every so often. He wondered about this man he was to obey. Thor did not seem keen on the idea of control. What would their life be like then? Would he be permitted to simply live among them? Loki gently felt the edge of his horn. No. Perhaps that was not an option. What then? Live with Thor? As a servant? A companion, perhaps? His mind went back to the stunning man he'd met that day. No again. A man like Thor could have his pick of whomever pleased him at any time he wanted. The last person on his list would be a Frost Giant who wasn't even big enough to be called as such. Besides, Loki had no interest in the man. He had no interest in anyone. None at all.

The door burst open suddenly, Loki sitting up like a bow string snapping into place. Thor had stumbled into his room, a tune on his lips and a swagger in his step. Judging by the color of his cheeks, he'd had his fill of spirits that night. Loki quirked his brow.

"I assume your celebration went over well."

"Mm..." Thor ran his fingers through his hair before flopping into his bed. Loki actually bounced an inch in the air as the man spread his arms out on either side of him, sighing at the ceiling. "Ah, twas nothing compared to most feasts. Why... once, after a lull in the war, we had a feast that lasted for thirty moons!" He laughed at the memories. "It figures I cannot remember most of them..."

"And here I thought Asgardians could handle their drink."

"Oh aye. Drink and far more than that." Eyes closed, Thor smiled against his pillows, palms open and pointed upwards. Loki looked him over.

"I do hope you don't expect me to undress you."

To that, Thor snorted. "I doubt you could lift my boot, friend."

Loki sneered (though it was hardly as poisonous as it might have been) and stood from the bed. "I am not your friend." Arms folded, he approached the window. Thor lifted his head to his elbow, watching with distinct curiosity.

"Now who is the serious one?" he jested.

"Ugh." Loki shook his head, trying to block Thor from view. "If there is one thing I cannot stand, it's a drunkard."

"Now that simply isn't fair. You see?" Slipping to his feet, Thor held out his hands. "Perfectly capable."

Loki cocked his head over his shoulder. "If I were to tap you you'd topple over."

"Same could be said for you." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Thor smiled at the man, eying his slim figure. "Honestly, in all my days I've yet to see a Frost Giant so... small." Loki felt his throat tighten and he looked away. "Is your family like you? Or was your father simply inadequate?"

To that, Loki snorted. "Have you _seen_ my father? Or my brothers, for that matter? Laufey is far from inadequate."

"Hm." Thor tapped his knees before standing. He made his way to Loki's side, leaning against the wall as the Jotun was observed. "You do have brothers then."

"Three. One rules the mountains in the north. The other two rule by my father's side. I can assure you, they're all quite tall."

"Are they?"

"Bigger than you, for certain."

Thor simply smiled. "I like the big ones."

Loki made a disgusted noise, storming over to the bed as he settled himself back into the pillows. Not like he could sleep, anyway. "So will this be our quarters then?"

"Are you unhappy to share a bed with me?"

"I can't say I'd be thrilled at the prospect."

Thor let out a loud laugh. "That's a first." Suddenly, his eyes landed on his wash table, a bright spark hitting them. "Tell me... have you ever had Asgardian wine?"

"I think you've had enough drink for the both of us."

"No, but have you _had_ it? Have you tasted it?" Thor made his way to the table, opening up a lower drawer to pull out his own personal decanter. "There is nothing as sweet or masterfully crafted.

Loki flared. "We have wine in Jotunheim."

"Not like this." Pouring Loki a horn of it, he approached, handing it to the Jotun. "Taste."

"I'm allergic to pond water."

"Oh stop now! Drink, I say." His smile grew wider. "That's a _command._ "

Loki scowled at those words, but he knew he'd have no choice but to humor the man. Loki leaned in, sniffing the drink he was given. Honestly, it smelled sweet. Sweeter than any wine Loki had ever had. His mouth watered instantly as he detected the scent of honey and chestnut. A honey wine then? Giving Thor one last look, he took a sip. The initial taste was beyond wonderful. Sweet and succulent. Like nectar itself. And then the bitterness took over. With a start, Loki nearly spit the wine out, forcing himself to swallow. Suddenly, the sweet, wonderful taste had turned into a horrid, bitter liquid, searing his tongue and throat. Thor, taking the horn from his hands, nearly doubled over in laughter.

"What is this now!?" he boomed. "Can you not so much as handle a little wine!? What is it that they feed you, Jotun? _Goat piss?_ "

"It's absolutely horrible! How can you stomach such a terrible thing-?!"

Still, Thor laughed. "Goat piss," he repeated, poking Loki's arm. With no trouble whatsoever, Thor put the horn to his lips, downing the drink in a single tilt of his head. Pulling it a way, the prince gave a satisfied sigh before throwing the horn to the floor. What did he care? Scooting himself up to his pillows, Thor kicked off his gigantic boots before settling in. A light gently hit his face as he did so. Turning, Thor saw the first rays of the morning sun. His face softened.

"' _And so the_ _light touches upon the land... softly stretching... softly waking...'_ "

As Thor's words trailed off, Loki turned to him, a bemused look on his face. Without thinking, he finished the thought. "' _And lo, did I weep, for the world begins anew.'_ Where did _you_ learn poetry?"

Thor chuckled, his eyes closed by now. "You are not... the only one who reads..." And with that, Thor had fallen into a slumber. One that would most likely last him until well into the afternoon. Loki turned from his seat, chin in hand.

"Yes well... then it wouldn't kill you to own a book."


	3. Beginning Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just wanted to thank all the nice comments and kudos this story has gotten me 8D I have plenty of drama and lurve ahead, so it's nice to know that you guys are enjoying the ride :3

Thor had come to a point in his life when the sounds of clashing swords were as normal to him as the chirping of birds. The soreness of battle throbbing through his muscles each time he wielded his weapon. The cries of pain and savagery were akin to the hum of summer crickets. Now that the war was over, there was no need for such background noise. Over the following few days, Thor found himself restless. No amount of feast or drink or merriment could steady his hand, nor calm his skittish heart. Years and years of fighting had left Thor with the feeling of battle behind every corner. That beside every wall sat a new enemy, ready to strike. The fact that this was not so did not bring peace, but amplified his anxiety. Which was why, after only a week of the signing of the peace treaty, Thor found himself within the training field of his fellow Asgardian soldiers.

Dust kicked up around his feet with every sway of them. In his hands was not his trusty hammer, but a staff made hallow, as it was better for practice. Currently, Thor was entrapped by four fighters who dared go up against him. Rather than taking his first few swings, Thor smiled, letting them come to him. The first brave fool to do so was flung through the air, landing flat on his back. The two others took this as their opportunity to charge the prince. Thor held his staff forwards, each end whacking the neck of either assailant. The forth, while Thor did away with the current two, managed to sneak up behind the man, his own staff locked around Thor's neck. It took only a few knocks of his elbow into the man's ribs before his grip loosened, and the soldier was sent flying into the other three. Thor laughed, his staff tossed from hand to hand. "Come now, lads! You should not fear to challenge me." Open hand out, Thor helped the soldiers to their feet. "Again?"

But his sparring partners were not so keen. One of them had removed his helm and shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. "Forgive me, M'Lord. But this is a time for peace."

"It is not an excuse to ignore the responsibilities as a warrior."

"The war is over, Prince Thor." Those words struck him deeply, his smile falling at an alarming rate. "Do not mistake us, sir. For we enjoy a proper bout as well as any but..." He and the others glanced at one another. "Are you not tired of fighting?" Thor stood, his shoulders slumped slightly, with his staff laying slack against his thigh. A look of disappointment fell across his face. The soldier looked slightly panicked, and held up a hand in apology. "Ah, I did not mean- I - we can spare another round if My Lord so wishes-!"

"No, no..." Smiling, Thor shook his head, tossing his staff to the dirt. One of those shovel hands rose, patting the man on the shoulder. "You are right, my friend. Perhaps I find it too quiet in these days of content." Hands on his hips, Thor looked the man over. Younger than him, with honest eyes and a firm footing. "What is your name, warrior?"

"Sváli, Highness."

"Sváli. Have you a wife?"

Sváli nodded slightly, his own staff now lowered to his waist. "And child." A smile came to the boy's face. "She's yet to dawn her third year this midsummer."

Thor's smile widened. "Go home, Sváli. Go to your wife. Play with your daughter until she yearns for slumber. Eat good food, drink your fill, and enjoy the bliss of family."

Sváli glanced at the other three men. "But Majesty... there are so many duties I must tend to-"

"They can wait. You have earned a day of rest. As have you." He nodded to the other three, who delightfully bowed out to enjoy their day of freedom. Now left alone in an empty training pitch, Thor made his way to the open corridor. Sitting there was a certain blue Jotun, his red eyes having yet to leave Thor during the entire fight. Barely passing Loki a glance, Thor dove a hand into one of the nearby wash pots, drenching his face in water before pressing his hair flat back against his skull. Loki watched with mild interest. Then, perfectly on cue, he held up a rag to the golden prince.

"Towel?" he offered snidely.

Thor, one hand on a firm tuft of his hair, glanced at the cloth. "Is this you being my servant?"

"That depends," said Loki. "Is this you being my master?" He let his eyes linger on Thor's filthy tunic. "At least wipe the sweat away." Indeed, Thor was rather in need of a wipe down. He wore a pair of old trousers and tough skinned boots, his tunic loose and of a thin fabric. Clumps of dirt and wetness littered the surface of it, clinging to the contours of his thick body.

Taking the rag, Thor dunked it in water before wiping himself down with the thing. In the process, he removed his tunic, allowing the cloth to move freely over his arms, chest, and under bits. As Loki watched, he could say at least this about the man: he was not amiss for looks. "Is it that you cannot pass a day without cracking a crown, or are you simply incapable of activities requiring complex thought?"

"I fear those sharp words of yours will lead to your own crown split."

"In due time, my benevolent master," Loki jeered. "So. What shall be our agenda today? More bashing skulls? Or perhaps we should visit the good Lady Sif? Maybe you could try and bash _her_ head in."

That had Thor chuckling. "She'd most likely bash mine."

"I suppose so." Leaning against the ledge of the corridor, Loki stared beyond the walls into the marketplace of Asgard. "Dare I ask... are the women here always so brutish?"

"Belay that thought, Loki." Thor glanced at his servant, the rag having been tossed back into Loki's unwilling hands. "Sif is a proud warrior, but she is no less woman than a goddess of olden times."

Loki smirked. "Perhaps you'd best check beneath her chain-male, just to be sure." Thor turned, having put his tunic back in place. Leaving the rag on the floor, Loki followed, his eyes curious. "Why is Sif allowed to fight?"

"Because she can."

"I hardly think that's a reason."

"Sif and I grew together as children. She took the same training as I. Her skills as a fighter were honed by years of practice and discipline."

"You speak as if she was your equal."

Thor paused, turning to Loki with a strange look. "She is."

"On what grounds? A dog and a wolf may have the same master but only one shall sleep in comfort."

Thor ran his tongue along the top of his teeth. "Women are not wolves, Loki. Nor dogs. They are the same as you or I."

"Women are fragile and irrational. Sif may fall exception to the rule, but they are for little more than birthing children. Anything more and their world becomes far too complicated."

"The world itself is complicated, Loki. You'd do well to learn this now. And you would _also_ do well to never voice these opinions with Sif in earshot. Else I cannot be held responsible for her actions."

They continued again, Loki's eyes focusing on the back of Thor's head. It took only a moment after such a warning for Loki to once again open his mouth. "It figures Asgard is irresponsible with its women. From what I hear, the king himself bows down to every pestering caw of your mother-"

_Whoo-whump-SLAM!_

Before Loki had a moment to finish his sentence, Thor had rounded to him. His hulking arm managed to slam him straight into a nearby wall. His muscle even pressed him so far up it that he'd taken Loki a good half foot off the ground. Looking into Thor's face, Loki saw it contort in anger. For the first time since arriving in Asgard a slave, Loki found himself fearful. 

"Watch your tongue, Jotun," Thor growled. "Or I shall watch it for you." Removing his arm, Thor took hold of Loki's tunic, bringing him in close. Loki's feet barely touched the ground. "Am I _clear_?"

Loki glanced at the pulsating muscle that held him upwards. "Impeccably," came his soft reply. With that being said, Loki was allowed to fall to his feet. Even though he tried to hide it, the man was visibly shaken by Thor's outburst. However, Thor did not address it. Instead, he turned, marching his way towards the courtyards. Loki, after hesitating a moment or so, hastened after the man.

The courtyards were full today. For what Asgardian would not indulge in the sunlight of the bright afternoon? Upon his arrival at the palace, Loki took notice to small details. The fact that, in spite of the palace being meant for royalty, the courtyard was constantly visited by Asgardians of all class and status. Rich, poor, noble and common. A colorful myriad of silks and shawls. Thor settled himself beneath a tree. Away from the crowds. Loki would admit he was glad for the allocation. Sitting on the grass beside the man, he let his eyes roam. By now, the Asgardians were used to his presence. As usual, it was he who started the next conversation.

"How can you stand the sun every day?" Loki narrowed his eyes, peering at the cloudless sky above. "It's blinding..."

"We are not unfamiliar with rain," said Thor simply. "These are our kinder days. Even the great Asgard knows cold. I personally cannot imagine Jotunheim."

Loki hummed, his arms around his knees. "Even if I were to explain it to you I doubt you could. These past days have been the warmest of my life."

"Must be awful," Thor remarked.

But Loki shook his head. "To an outsider, perhaps. But the snows are not so terrible."

"How does one harvest, though?" Thor turned to his servant. "Does Jotunheim not have farms? Crops? Livestock?"

"All accustomed to a world of ice."

"And what of merriment?"

Head craned, Loki turned to him. "What of it?"

"In Asgard, a feast lasts far into the night. Sometimes, celebrations go on for days. It is difficult, I find, to do so if you are fighting a chill."

"Jotuns do not fight chill. We embrace it." Loki, his legs now stretched before him, leaned back on his arms as he stared at the leaves above them both. "We are born into a world of cold. It takes little effort to be merry in it."

"Mm." Thor went silent a bit longer before laying in the lush green beneath them. His hands rested, folding within each other, on his constantly rising stomach. "I should think you are a stranger to merriment."

Loki looked absolutely affronted. "A stranger? I am no such thing!" Thor laughed lowly, only making Loki more livid. "Do you find this funny, brute!?"

"Oh aye... aye..." Thor laughed a bit more, pushing himself up on his elbow. "Do you mean to say that you are privy to a world of song and dance?"

"Why does the thought amuse you?" Loki snapped.

"I have met my share of Frost Giants. I should not think that you would be social with them."

"And why not?"

"To be blunt? Most are stupid."

Loki had opened his mouth to argue, but found that none came. True, it wasn't that they were _stupid_... But Loki would be lying if he tried to tell Thor that he'd enjoyed such parties. But perhaps it wasn't such a brilliant deduction; Loki often felt himself smarter than most, so to think that it was not just with Asgardians was plausible. With a huff, Loki scooted away from Thor, pressing his back against the bark of the tree. "I grow tired of this subject."

"Another then. If not festivals, then perhaps you've had more discrete pleasures in Jotunheim."

"Such as?"

"A lover, perhaps?"

Loki felt himself go very stiff, his eyes widening slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"For what?"

Loki flapped his mouth once or twice. "I- That is not your concern, _Asgardian_."

The man looked genuinely confused. "You're upset? Hold a moment, why are you so rattled, man?"

Puffing his cheeks out, Loki wrapped his legs to his chest. "Perhaps you are used to a savage way of life here, but in Jotunheim, we do not discuss such shame in public-!"

"Shame?" Thor actually sat up, hands in his lap. "What shame is there in it? Tis only sex."

Loki actually felt his cheeks grow hot. " _Have you no senses?!_ " He whispered harshly.

"You were not so adverse when you thought I meant to bed you. Why now do you protest?"

"We-! Ugh!" Loki threw his head into the palms of his hands, legs up and tightly squeezing his elbows together. "Good _gods_ , Thor! We are _outside!_ " He snapped his head up, hands tight on the top of his head. "We do not discuss such things outside closed walls!"

Thor blinked before actually looking around the courtyard. Not a single head was turned their way. And even if the entire courtyard was listening in, there would be no interest in it. With confusion in his eye, he turned back to his servant, who squirmed helplessly beside him. "Why would sex be a shame in Jotunheim?"

"Can you _not_ call it that?"

"What am I to call it?"

"I-I don't know! I just-!" Running out of things to say, Loki snapped to his feet. "I believe we are finished with this conversation." Brushing himself off, Loki stormed into the corridor, only to be followed by a now determined Thor.

"Truly though," he continued. "Why does such an act put you off? Or have you no experience-?"

" _I have plenty, thank you._ "

"So you've had lovers then."

"Yes, if it please you, yes!"

"Mm." Thor put his hands behind his head. "Women?"

Loki actually stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide and mouth gaping. "Y-YES, women! Why wouldn't they be women?!" Realizing that he was shouting, Loki dropped his voice immediately, practically covering his face with the hem of his tunic. 

Thor laughed shortly, hands falling. "Loki..." His smile lingered, eyes a mix of confusion, amusement, and pity. "To make love is an act one should be proud of, not shun away from."

"And I suppose _you'd_ know all about it."

"Well... yes." His smile was warmer now. "I've had my fill of lovers in the past as well. Women... men... Sometimes both. At once."

"Ugh." Loki put his head in his hand, quickly striding his way down the hall. "We are _finished_ , thank you." Thor, following soon after, did not pester Loki further. Instead, he gave himself a moment of amusement before he and his servant headed to the other end of the corridor. This one lead to the street and into the market place. Thor, now dry of sweat and presentable, was just thinking about taking Loki to perhaps try a few foods before a ball came to his feet. Turning down to the leather thing, he glanced upwards to see a group of children staring at it with intent. Smiling, the Prince of Thunder tossed the ball up into his own hands. Loki, noticing Thor had stopped, paused as well, watching as the children awaited their ball with giddy delight. 

"Tell me, Loki." Thor tossed the ball between his hands, turning to the Jotun. "Do you play?"

Well, at least he was no longer asking about sex. "No." He was in no mood for games. 

"Would you like to?"

"Absolutely not."

Thor laughed at that. Arm around Loki's shoulders, he edged him forward. "Children!" he called. They came running close as Thor tossed them their ball back. Thor's smile was wider now, mischief in his eyes. "My dear friend here has never played dansar boll before." The children giggled, some looking at each other with expectant grins. "Perhaps we can show him?"

"You will not show him anything," Loki seethed. But he was interrupted, however, by a tug on his tunic. The children were starting to pull him into the street. Of course, they never would have gotten anywhere if Thor had not pushed. Once they were out there, Thor had the ball tossed back to him. 

"It's easy."

"Nothing's easy with you."

"Watch me." Tossing it up, Thor let it bounce on his head once, twice, three times, before letting it fall to his foot. There, he kept it balanced for just a few seconds. With a quick toss of his foot, the ball was up again. This time, a child jumped under it, letting the ball bounce against her head before elbowing it to a friend. There, the children bounced it back and forth between each other, some doing tricks with it before passing it on. Thor managed to swipe it, mid air, before turning to Loki. "It should be easy for you."

"And why is that?"

Without a word, Thor pressed the ball in between Loki's horns. The entire gaggle of children broke out into laughter as Loki yanked it out. "Am I to be a mockery for the amusement of urchins!"

"Ha ha! Hold, hold, Loki! Here." Taking the ball, Thor let it rest (much looser this time) at the base of his horns. "Now. Bend down and up quickly. Go on."

Loki was hesitant. At first. Sighing heavily, he did as was asked. The ball bounced at an odd angle, falling straight back into Thor's hands. "Perhaps your elbows then. No beginner is perfect." Holding out Loki's skinny arm, he let the ball fly up a few inches before landing on his elbow. Loki wobbled, but managed to knock it up into the air, where his right horn tapped it back down again. Flustering about, he was able to pop it up at least three times before losing control and letting it fall. "Right. Try again, yes?" Loki didn't argue. Instead, he let Thor do as he pleased. Before long, even the children were giving him tricks on the game. Loki wouldn't admit it. Not to himself and certainly not to Thor. But... if some tiny part of his brain were to consider it... after a while, the Frost Giant was starting to have fun. He never noticed, but he was even smiling.

Before long, Loki had gotten good enough to start passing it off. It went around in the circle, Loki capable of keeping the thing airborne for some time before it once again fell into Thor's hands. "Right. Time to play."

Loki's face fell. "Were we not?"

With shrieks of joy, the children began to run wild. Loki jumped, watching them all scuttle like flies. Thor laughed, taking Loki's arm and rushing him deep into the street. While they ran, Thor let the ball bounce a bit on his elbows and knees, before tossing it to Loki. All the while, the children ran circles around them, able to dive in whenever the ball threatened to hit the ground. The laughter of Thor and the children were infectious. It took only a couple of rounds before Loki was smiling and laughing with the rest of them.


	4. Tales of the Past

"Are you not worried, Majesty?"

"What have I to fear?"

"It's just... the prince. More than once I have seen him out and about with the Jotun."

"As well he should. After all, Loki was given to us as his servant."

"That is just it, Sire. Over these past weeks, Loki has been seen gallivanting about the palace with ease. He partakes in dishes meant for guests or noblemen, he drinks wine as he wishes... The Jotun has been acting more of a guest than a servant, Your Grace."

Odin sighed, staring down at his table full of maps. Locations throughout the nine realms, all marked with victories and defeats. Hundreds of battles. Thousands of soldiers. Countless deaths. All condensed to a neat bit of parchment. It was to be the documentation of Odin's ultimate success. But the king did not feel whole as he looked upon his maps. Truth be told, he felt next to nothing. A hallow, senseless feeling of accomplishment, yet even that was too strong a word. Odin was simply... finished. The map felt as though it was all he had to prove that fact. His one good eye trailed the lines back to Asgard, fingers laying along the ink. His eyes were far from the world. Would his home ever feel the same...?

"...Majesty?"

Odin blinked back into reality. Currently, the King of Asgard was standing amid his small council of advisers, who had come in concern of the newest addition to the Asgardian palace. Odin, admittedly, had not been paying much attention. "What are we to do of the Jotun?"

Odin stood a bit straighter, hand falling to his side. "Nothing," came his response.

"Nothing?" they repeated. "But Sire, should Thor allow his servant such freedom, it may send the wrong message-"

"What, pray tell, is the context? That my son does not value a servant any less than his fellow man?" The advisers went silent. "Laufey sent Loki to serve my son. The conditions of this agreement are up to Thor, and Thor alone." Eye trailing back to the map, Odin slowly rolled it back up. He'd rather not remind himself so soon of the war. "And if my advisers consider Thor's treatment of his own servant a top priority, then perhaps it is time I find advisers who are a little wiser."

One of them glanced at the others. "We mean no disrespect, Your Grace." Hesitating, the man stepped forward, spectacles slipping off his large nose. "But... we thought you of all people may find it unnerving to have your son so close to the enemy. To treat him so familiarly."

Odin was silent, staring into the man who had spoken. Not even the other advisers dared speak after such a statement. Some even backed away, clutching their books close. Odin's face had not changed. "Me of all people..." The adviser swallowed, realizing that he may have stepped over some boundaries. "Are you suggesting that I am unable to move past my grief? That I am incapable of understanding the difference between war and peace time?"

"N-No, not at all, Sire-"

"Then I suggest, sir, that you trust me to make proper decisions." Odin stepped away from the table placing the map in its holster along with the others. "The Jotuns are not our enemy. Not any longer. That is what it means to end a war, gentlemen. Begrudging the past leads only to a stagnation of the future." He turned back to them, his brow set tightly. "You are all dismissed."

Without argument, the advisers bowed from the room, leaving Odin to his thoughts. The King was silent, not even bothering to admire the golden sunlight of the afternoon. Such placid things were not worthy of his admiration. Nothing was these days. Leaving his strategy room, Odin let his feet take him to where they had before. Where they always had. Every day since that one, horrible night.

A year. It had been a year. After, the war was nothing but static. Odin was thankful, for his own personal reasons, that the war had finally come to an end. He doubted if he'd had the stamina to continue fighting for much longer. His heavy steps brought him to the back end of the palace, ignoring the bowing guards and servants along the way. Finally, through the open doors he walked, the sunlight laying along his white hair. Pausing, he looked upon the courtyard in which he now stood.

It was the royal family tombs. It was a beauty to behold, especially in the warmer seasons. The grass was lush and vibrant. Flowers bloomed from the ivy crawling along the stone statues and walls which kept it hidden from the world. By now, the sun was giving its last rays of light. Fireflies had already started to flicker beneath the underhang of plant life. Figures of the past stood nobly. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. Wives, husbands, children. Generations of Odin's family and thensome. As he stepped along the stone path, however, his eye did not stray to the legends of the past. Rather, he kept his gaze resting on the path before him, and his ultimate destination.

A stone figure rested at the very end of his trek. A woman. Beautiful. Angelic and graceful. Even in death. As Odin approached, he let his fingers lay against the stone grain. All the while, he stared up at the unmoving face of his wife. Frigga. She stood above him on a pedestal, hands open and outstretched, with draping fabric dripping from her shoulders. Though it had been a year since her passing, the stone had not withered or garnered the flora around her. She remained as untouched and pure as the day her statue was carved. Slowly, Odin laid his palm flat against her leg.

What a day. A horrible, horrible day. Asgard was torn by both war and the elements. Laufey had breached their walls in the middle of a thunderstorm. Through the rain and the lightning, fighting was almost indistinguishable. Odin, as the proud king that he was, had lead the forces of his castle in defense. On the front lines of battle. It had been enough to drive the forces from his lands, but not as quickly as he should have. Laufey's forces had broken through the palace walls, storming his own corridors. Men, women - both soldier and innocent - were slaughtered within the halls of the very place they had been promised to be safe. When the battle had died down, Odin returned to his chambers only to find that Frigga had been collateral in the engagement.

Odin was never the same after that. He was a king who had seen many a battle. But never before had he felt that such strife could cost a terrible price. Yet he had no time to weep or grieve. He could not break from the conflict. Frigga's funeral was the only moment of peace he'd had. Even then he was denied closure. Only when the fighting had ceased could he mourn his lover's death. By then, it was too late. She had been gone too long. A strong king could not afford to mourn for too long.

Slowly, Odin sat beside her feet, resting up against her leg. There were no guards in the cemetery. It was forbidden by law and tradition. Sitting there, Odin had no idea just how long he'd been resting; it was finally dark. Enclosed in the security of night, Odin let his head hang. Like so many other nights, he allowed himself the small condolence of tears. They were silent and weary, his face as still as the statues he surrounded himself with.

Frigga had been so much more than a queen, or a wife. More than a mother. She had been Odin's partner. His friend. For years and years she stayed beside him. There were nights, during the war, when Odin had found himself up until the gray hours of the morning, obsessing over plans or strategy. Without fail, he would be joined thereafter by the presence of Frigga. Yet her gentle nature was not naive. Battle after battle, she would ride with him to the front lines. Unafraid of the enemy forces. While Odin lead, Frigga tended to their wounded with the swiftness of a Valkyrie herself. The day she died, she had remained behind only to protect as many innocent lives as she could.

Odin lifted his head, staring up at the lifeless, stone eyes of the woman he'd come to love so dearly. Had he already forgotten their color? Reaching upwards, he laid his fingers along her palm. "Frigga..." he muttered, eye now stained with the tears of his woe. "The war is over. My task is done. How... how can I continue on? Without you...?"

None responded but the sound of the wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you  _always_ get so drunk?"

Thor, having finished his third pint, set the empty tankard down with a loud belch to commemorate his victory. "Another!" he called to the barkeep. Loki wrinkled his nose, hands lingering on his wine (a far weaker one than what Thor had first given him). "Come now, Loki!" He pat his servant's shoulder. "Times of peace call for times of pleasure! If you do not make merry in Asgard, then my friend, you are in desperate need of saving."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are nearly dead!"

Thor gave a great booming laugh, his hand pounding down on the bar top. Currently, they were in a tavern, one of Thor's most frequented, in fact, and he and the Prince of Thunder were enjoying (not so much on Loki's end) quality time to themselves near the corner of the bar. The pub was full, and in this sea of golden faces, Loki found himself going rather unnoticed. Not that he was complaining. He quite liked the fact that his novelty had worn off in such a short time.

"I'm sure you are merry enough for the both of us," came his dry response.

"Come man! Must I bring you into a brigade of children every time I am to see you smile?"

Loki felt his cheeks grow warm at that. His playtime with the children had not ended that day. Every afternoon since, the Jotun prince found himself within the gaggle of young ones, passing balls and laughing with the rest. He would, of course, never admit to truly enjoying himself. The children were dirty and loud and cumbersome, after all. He only bothered with them to stay in the good graces of his master, who was very entertained by the sight of it. Or so he told himself.

"One does not need the influence of ale to find merriment."

"Oh?" Thor challenged. "Then enlighten me, my Ice Prince. How does one make merry in Jotunheim? Dance, perhaps?"

Loki puffed out his chest, hands flat on the bar top. "To be blunt, yes. Jotunheim is rich in tradition. Many dances of our ancestors are still preformed today."

"Mayhap I should bare witness to such culture," Thor teased, leaning in just a bit.

"Mayhap you should never suggest such a thing again." Loki sipped his wine, his nose slightly higher than it was before. "Dance in Jotunheim cannot just be done. It must be prepared. Studied. _Practiced._ I know that the dance here in Asgard is nothing more than a few shakes of drunken debauchery, so perhaps the concept is too complex for you to comprehend."

"Ha!" Thor, now on his fourth ale, took a great gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Why must everything in Jotunheim be so guarded, I wonder? So many rules, so many walls... If we had the same traditions of your people, Asgard would be a miserable place indeed! Tell me..." He leaned his chin in his hand, elbow on the table. "Is there not _some_ entertainment to be had that is not so steeped in nonsense?"

Loki kept his frown, glaring at Thor for his utter lack of respect, but in some ways, he would concede the man's point. His finger scratched the edge of his wine glass, eyes staring at the dark red liquid within. "We tell stories."

"Stories?" Thor tilted his head to the side, tapping his temple. "What stories?"

Loki shrugged. "Children's tales. Tales of adventure. Heroes. Villains. Stories of old."

"I dare say I haven't heard a Jotun story before." Brightening, Thor clapped his hands together. "Go on then! Enlighten me. What is one you love to tell?"

"I..." Loki blinked at his new audience. "Well... there are some I do not know all the way but... Others I remember since childhood."

"Ah! One of your past then! On my honor I will be courteous."

Loki gave him a disbelieving look, but he knew the man would pester him until he was given what he asked. "There is one my mother taught me when I was young. The story of Ingrid the Troll." Already, Thor was getting comfortable, his blue eyes bright at the prospect. Loki cleared his throat. "Yes. Well...

"Ingrid was a troll who grew in the forest, away from the townsfolk below the mountain. She - well, she always dreamed of seeing the town herself, but would never be able to. Her village would never allow it. One day, a wandering prince passed Ingrid's home. The troll captured the prince and demanded that he marry her so that he may take her to the town. The prince agreed very quickly, and they became wed in the forest. After which, the prince and his bride made their way down to the town below the mountain." Loki began to smile as Thor leaned in, expectantly.

"The town, as it turns out, was full of troll hunters."

At that final line of the story, Loki laughed as though he had told the grandest joke. Thor, on the other hand, did not seem so amused. "So she was killed then," he concluded.

Loki, still chuckling, nodded. "Well of course she was."

"And this was a story told to you as a child?"

The Jotun blinked, surprised by Thor's cold tone. "Yes... My mother told it to me as a way to teach me."

"What lesson can be taught from that?" Thor demanded. "Tis not but a tale of woe and deception!"

"You are missing the point!" Loki shook his head. "Ingrid acted without thought. She blindly followed her desires, and because of it, paid the consequences! What is so awful about that?"

Thor was not persuaded. "The prince should have been honest of her destination."

"But then she would not have learned-"

"Aye, but she would have lived."

"Why are you so upset?" Loki folded his arms, frowning now that his story was all for naught. "Tis just a tale for children! Ingrid was never real to begin with."

Thor huffed, taking another huge drink from his tankard. "We of Asgard do not teach our children such harsh lessons."

"Sometimes harsh lessons are _needed_ , Thor. I am willing to wager that you got into your fair amount of trouble as a lad."

Thor regained a bit of his smile. "And I have no doubt you were nothing but saintly as a child. Obedient, docile, and most of all, _boring._ "

Loki tapped his finger on the edge of his goblet. "Well... so long as I wasn't caught."

That, admittedly, caught Thor off guard. Blinking, he broke into a laugh, raising his glass in a toast. Loki, adhering to the humor of it all, held up his own. They clinked glasses together before settling into their drink as friends.


	5. A Thousand Pages More

Loki never knew exactly when he'd been comfortable enough to sleep soundly in Thor's chambers. One day, it just started happening. He and Thor would spend the day together, meandering about the palace, the shops, all ending at the local pub. Then, they would return to Thor's bedroom, the prince would drink just a little more, and proceeded to pass out on his fur covered bed. Sometime thereafter, Loki's eyes would grow heavy, and he would slip into dreams as easily as he had when he was a boy. For whatever reason, he was not sure of. Perhaps it was a sort of safety he felt in Thor's company. Not the feeling he had expected, but it resided there all the same. Or perhaps it was he day's conversations. The laughter and sunlight and new experiences. If Loki didn't know better, he would have guessed that he was happy.

One morning, his eyes fluttered open to the sounds of birds outside Thor's window. Loki had come to know it as the song of Asgard. With a yawn, he turned slightly, his horns shifting the pillow beneath him. Thor was already out of bed and washing for the day ahead of him. Loki felt himself freeze.

He was naked, firstly. Turned away from the ice prince, Thor had shed his trousers in order to move the wash rag he had any way he needed. The basin water trickled down his taut back muscles, that sun-kissed skin ruddy with life. He let his gaze trail a flowing droplet, all the way down his spine to the pleasant crevice of his lower back. Every movement enacted a muscle to be shifted. Like ripples in a pond. Water made his golden hair cling together, hanging in ringlets down his shoulders. He raised his arm to get beneath it, hand stretching elegantly above his head. By then, Loki realized that he had been staring far longer than he should have.

Quickly, he turned, trying to hide his shame. Just in time for Thor to notice that he had woken.

"Ah," came his bright voice. "Morrow to you, Loki. Come now, up up. The day is nearly gone!"

Sitting up, but keeping himself pointed away from his "master," Loki brooded at the floor. "The sun has barely risen."

"I know, we've missed so much already!" Thor laughed at himself, going to his wardrobe in order to dress properly. Loki glanced at the man before clearing his throat.

"I have never known a drunkard to be so chipper in the mornings."

"I detest sleep," said Thor plainly. "Who knows what goes on in the hours that you rest? Besides." With his pants firmly in place, Thor cocked his head over his shoulder. "I am only a drunkard if you find me in the gutter." 

"Oh?" Loki crooned. "I cherish the day." Once Thor was completely dressed, he went to Loki's bedside, urging him up. The Jotun was none too happy about being rushed. "What is so important?" he demanded.

"You'll not regret it."

"What is _it_?"

Thor would not answer his questions. Instead, he goaded him to his own clothes, making sure he was dressed and ready, before leading the way into the halls. "I'm sure you're aware of this, but during the war, the palace of Asgard withheld a great assault."

"Is this to be a recent history lesson? I know the battles well. After all, t'was my father that lead them."

"Did you know, by chance, that much of the palace had to be rebuilt after such an ordeal?" Thor turned them down a corridor, a smile still on his face. "Yesterday I was told that the renovations were finally complete."

"How joyous."

"Bide your cynicism, Loki. You will appreciate what it was that was saved."

Loki clearly gave Thor a look that demanded exactly what that was, but the prince gave no answer. In fact, he did nothing but hum or whistle until they arrived at their destination. A pair of large, oak doors, crafted meticulously by skilled hands. Loki observed the bits of history engraved within the wood, all painted masterfully with details of gold. Before opening them, Thor turned to his servant. "Tell me, what has been your most verbal complaint since arriving in Asgard?"

"The smell," Loki jested.

"Be honest now."

Loki's brows creased a bit as he thought things through. "I've... nothing to read," he finally concluded.

Thor's lips turned into a wide grin. With a mighty push of his arm, he opened the door. Light shone on Loki's face, and immediately, his eyes widened, and his jaw lowered to the ground.

A library. Not just any library. But one of the most exotic ones Loki had ever seen. Its ceilings were high and crammed to the top with books. Ladders of all lengths sat against its shelves. A spiral staircase even sat in the corner of a room, making it clear that this was only the second floor. Glancing at Thor, Loki stepped inside, almost afraid to do so. His home had a library of course. Each member of Loki's family had their own private collection. This was something more. For one thing, the amount of books was more than his entire family's collection put together. Every color and every word imaginable sat before him in these shelves. Loki wanted to read every single one! After one last look at Thor, Loki went to the closest shelf to him, letting his fingers trail the spines. Names he had never seen nor heard of, writing stories he could only dream about. Some were even in different languages. Some, even, in -

"Jotun." Taking a book from its place holder, Loki examined its cover. He recalled the book immediately. It was nothing special. A mere guide on Jotun architecture. But it was here. Without shame. In Loki's hands. The small frost giant turned to Thor, his eyes awash with joy. "You have books in Jotun."

"We have books from all over the Nine Realms." Thor stepped inside, taking a title for himself. "You speak the common tongue masterfully, but I can imagine it might be nice to read something in your native tongue."

Loki had no words. Yes, it was only a book. Yes, this place was just a library. But it was the gesture that overwhelmed Loki in a way he never had before. How could this man, this brute, this Golden Prince of Asgard, have possibly known what it would have meant to him? "And..." Loki's words were slow as he stared at the title. "And... I assume... this place is not restricted to me..."

Slowly, Thor approached. His smile was genuine, his blue eyes sweet and kindly. "Of course not," came his quiet response. 

Loki clung to the book of architecture, turning back to the place of wonder that sat before him. "I just... I do not understand." He rounded back to Thor then, face struggling with the joy he felt. Almost as though he was struggling to accept this offer with complete trust.

"What is there to understand?" Thor replied. "You wanted books. Now we have them."

"No, I do not understand _you_." Thor blinked, smile gone in confusion at those words. "I have met Asgardians my entire life. Only you do not look upon me with complete disdain, yet you and your family have every right to. I am delivered to you as your servant, yet you feed and clothe and treat me as though I am partaking in your hospitality. And now..." He stared down at the tome in his hands, unable to finish. "I just... what is it you hope to achieve by this?

"What do want from me?"

Slowly, Thor's confusion melted away. A piteous expression came to his face. Reaching forward, he took the book gently from Loki's hands. There, he held it up between them, as if it alone was the answer to Loki's question. "What has transpired between our worlds has become memories that I do not wish to cherish. It was not you whom I was fighting within those fields. What was done to you was nothing I wished for, and you must understand that when I broke your chains, I broke all pretenses that you are here to serve me with it."

Loki couldn't help himself. Tears began to crop up in front of his deep, red eyes. Thor saw them, but made no comment. Instead, his smile only grew, and gently the book was placed in Loki's hands. "You ask what I want from you." A pause fell between the men as Thor's large hand covered his own. "I want distrust between our peoples to end. I want us all to enjoy the sunlight without fear of rain.

"I only want you to know happiness."

Those words broke him in a way he never knew was possible. His stomach twisting in beautiful knots, Loki let the book tumble to the ground. Without shame nor thought, he lurched forward, and those long, blue arms wrapped securely around Thor's neck. It took only a moment before those hands wrapped tightly around him in return. There, they stayed, Loki soaking in the feel of this big man who held him so securely. He felt, not fear at thought of his strength, but safety in the assurance of it. For the first time in a very long time, Loki had felt that he had found a friend.

Breaking from the embrace, Loki turned back to the shelves, his heart overwhelmed with delight. First, he swiped the Jotun architecture book from the floor, and then, with unbridled pleasure, he went back and forth between the walls. A book here, another there. Two or three more. Fairy tales and history books and books of the sciences. Loki took them all. It got to the point where his arms threatened to give way. Thor quickly came to his aide, taking half the burden in his own giant arms. His laughter rang throughout the library.

"Surely you do not intend to read these all in one night!"

"Ha!" Loki pulled three more titles from the shelf. "Nonsense! A month's time should suffice."

"But there are well over a thousand pages here! A hundred thousand!"

"And I'm sure it should keep my interests."

Setting his load on one of the near by tables, Thor took a book from the top pile. The story of Alvar the Clever. A Jotun novel that he was not familiar with, even though it was written in the common tongue. "If you are to take so much, then I will require some payment."

Loki turned, face falling. "Payment?"

Thor, holding the book up, delightfully tapped his nose with its spine. "You are to read me a chapter of this every night." 

Loki paused, almost alarmed by the strange request, before he put on a smile that would shame the greatest of starlights. Taking the book from his hand, he held it aloft. "Only if you can keep your attention for more than five minutes." 

"You have my word."

With one final laugh between the two, Loki added the tale to his ever growing stack, before scurrying up one of the ladders.


	6. A Friend

"'Upon entering the cave, Alvar took note of his surroundings. It was a bleak place, with hallowed halls darkened by shadow and ages of desolation. With every step, the bones of deceased creatures cracked beneath his shoes. A lesser coward would have withdrawn from such a setting. A bigger fool would have barged in, weapons at the ready. Alvar had neither cowardice nor foolishness on his mind, and walked with a careful, sturdy pace. His eyes were firm and lingering, all the more alert the deeper he went into the shadows.'

"Halt!" cried a voice. It's deep, sluggish tone stayed Alvar's pace. "No mortal is fool enough to approach my chambers alone! What armies do you bring with you?"

"None but myself," Alvar proclaimed.'

"Liar," the voice insisted.'

"Do you hear the sounds of hooves behind me? Do arrows pierce your skin?" Alvar received nothing but silence. "You see? My intentions are honest, monster."

"I trust honest men a great deal less than dishonest ones." A rumbling sounded from the dark. Alvar watched as the shadows shifted. There, from the depths of the terrible cave of which he had entered, rose the dreaded-'"

"Dragon!"

Loki paused, looking to his single audience member in irritated confusion. "Dragon?" he repeated.

"It must be," Thor insisted. "A creature, hidden within a cave, killing all those who trespass, stealing the riches of mountain towns. It must be!" With an excited grin, Thor sat himself up from the grass, hands on his ankles. Much in the way a child would sit during such story times. Currently, the two princes had taken refuge in the courtyard. The morning was bright and cheerful, as it had always been. A perfect setting for the sixth chapter of _The Journey Alvar the Clever_.

It had been only a few days after Loki had been shown the royal library. Thor's chambers were now littered with a library of its own. Loki, with great eagerness and pleasure, went through at least one a day. Some he read in a single go. Others he lingered on. Even took note of what he'd like to read about later. His now full reading schedule would not allow him to get out of his "payment." As insisted, Thor had Loki read one chapter of the novel each night. But after the second evening, Thor could not be content with one chapter. And so, the payment had been doubled; Loki was now to read Thor one chapter in the evening, one in the morning. In truth, Loki only really _pretended_ to be bothered. In his mind, he was all too entertained to care.

For such a sight was the Prince of Asgard, flopped about a bed of grass beneath a drooping tree, eagerly awaiting each new paragraph. When Loki had agreed to his "payment," he had thought the man only meant to humor his hobby. Imagine the Jotun's surprise when Thor not only awaited each chapter with glee, but _engaged_ in the story itself. Trying to guess the twists and turns. Commenting on Alvar's wit, though thoughtfully adding that were he to meet the man, he'd set aside at least three days of training with the tiny knight.

Closing the book with his thumb as a marker, Loki clicked his tongue. "I will never get any reading done if you keep blabbering on," he pointed out.

"Oh come now!" Thor clapped his hands together. "Am I right? Ha! I am!"

"You are not. Now be silent or I'll skip this chapter all together."

"Argh!" Thor, like an overactive puppy, rolled onto his back. His head fell to Loki's knee, hair sprawling every which way. "Why must you make me wait? Either tell me or continue reading!"

Loki wanted so badly to complain that he would have finished the damned chapter by now had Thor listened _quietly,_ but could not bring himself to do so. Looking down to the Prince of Thunder, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes reflected the deep blue sky above, Loki felt a smile trickle across his lips. Quickly, he hid his face behind the book, letting that smile grow to an embarrassing size. Heavens forbid the Asgardian see him smile so! Stifling laughter, Loki turned his head away, the open book so close to his face that he nearly felt the ink on his lips.

"You are a terrible child, Thor," he chided. "Cannot even sit still for a reading."

"You are a terrible story teller!" Thor mewled back. Throwing himself up on his arms, his big, toothy grin flashed beneath the crown of his yellow beard. It only made the urge to laugh all the more powerful. "Here I am, in _dire need_ of these next words, and you do nothing but scold me! Hurry, man, hurry! I must _know!_ "

Finally removing the book, Loki let his smile shine. "Then keep thy tongue still and I shall make mine dance!" he cried with laughter. The two broke out into giggles then, unable to help themselves. It had been like this ever since the library. Thor's jovial nature sometimes bordered on a sort of refreshing naivety. There were times, Loki swore, that the Asgardian said such ridiculous things _just_ to see him smile. In any case, it was working. Loki had smiled more in this past week than he had for what felt like ages.

Admitting defeat, Thor turned back around and flopped his head in the middle of Loki's lap. As he settled in, Loki felt his heart give a lurch. He stared down at the man, whose smile had yet to fade. Those thick arms folded firmly against his chest, a sigh escaping his nose. "Very well then," he said, eyes still shut tight. "Do as you will. I shall not speak again until you've finished."

Loki was still a moment. His eyes could not be moved from Thor's face. Still as a statue he was, with the shadow of the leaves above painting his face in sweet, soft kisses of light and dark. Loki felt his stomach twist just slightly. With uncertain fingers, he moved his hand forward. Those digits gently threaded through Thor's hair. The prince made no protest. How soft it was. Like the many silks Loki had grown accustomed to wearing. Before long, Loki had begun to stroke the gentle texture of his honey hair. Eventually, such a motion was mindless, and Loki had opened his book to continue reading.

"'A rumbling sounded from the dark. Alvar watched as the shadows shifted. There, from the depths of the terrible cave of which he had entered, rose the dreaded creature. Horns sprouted from its head, flesh dangling from its teeth. Alvar stood firm as the beast came closer. It was three times the size of a normal man.'

"Ha!" the monster cried. "One bite and I could eat you whole."

"There is no doubt," said Alvar. "But I'm afraid you cannot. I've been sent to kill you."

'The monster laughed greatly. For what could such a little knight do against a powerful being such as himself? "And why is that, O brave fool?"

"I have come to kill you."

"And you believe you will succeed?"

"Oh yes," said Alvar. "You see, in almost any bout, you would most certainly be the victor." Loki paused in his story, letting his eyes linger on Thor's calm face. "For you see, you are strong." He let his thumb rest against Thor's temple. "Stronger than I can ever be. I have no doubt that you could break my bones should the inclination arise. And yet you will lose this battle. Why, you may ask?" A sudden urge rising within him, Loki leaned down, the tip of his nose nearly touching Thor's own as their faces sat opposite of each other. The Asgardian opened one eye, smirking up at the Jotun. "No beast is as powerful as the possibility of the mind."

Thor let out a chuckle, laying easily beneath Loki's face. "I have fought many a creature like this beast," he remarked. "Most battles did not start off so civilly."

"It's a story," Loki explained, sitting up. He would have continued, but something more caught his eye. Blinking, he lifted his gaze beyond the pages of Alvar to an approaching figure. Lady Sif, he recalled. So odd not to see her in her usual armor. As she approached, Thor himself lifted his head, his smile growing brighter as she moved closer. Loki's had gone completely.

"Ah!" he said eagerly. "Good morrow, Sif."

"And what a day it is," she replied. "I've come to deliver a message. You are to be expected this evening."

"Am I?"

"Tis only proper that a prince should be present on his general's birthday, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ha!" Thor actually hit his head, having forgotten the date. "Gods and all... of course, of course. Tell Fandral I shall be present." His smile returned and he sat up fully. "Though in truth, when have I been known to be absent at a celebration?"

"That would be a frightening world indeed." Quickly, Sif's eyes bounced between Loki and Thor, silently asking what she dared not herself. "So. We will save you one seat then?"

Thor would have agreed, but he hesitated. With curiosity in his eye, he turned to Loki. The Jotun looked between the two, confused. Without conformation, Thor shook his head. "You will save me two seats. No more, no less." Both Lady Sif and the former prince of Jotunhiem tensed.

"I... am to assume your servant will attend at your side," Sif said carefully.

"Of course," said Thor.

An expression fell across Sif's face. One Loki knew all too well. The expression of distrust. Of suspicion. Of _loathing._ Loki could only wish he did not know such a look so well. No longer willing to accommodate her unruly stare, Loki turned away. Thor, seeing the tension between the two, stood and approached the lady warrior.

"Loki will be treated as a guest, Sif."

The woman creased her brow, a look of worry coming to her eyes. "He was to be your servant."

"And now he is not."

"But why? Thor, he is a Jotun- the son of Laufey!"

"I am not a blind man, my friend."

"Then why?"

Thor hesitated. He turned to Loki, who was now glaring at the grass beside his leg. He chanced a look up, seeing that now both pairs of eyes were on him. "Oh, am I being given permission to speak?" Standing, the frost giant dusted himself off, trying to play the whole situation off as casually as you please. "Right. Well I of all people don't wish to intrude on one of your celebrations. After all, take away an Asgardian's meed, and you're left with very little."

Sif snarled at Loki, hand immediately going to the dagger on her belt. "You watch yourself, Jotun. You are in the _presence_ of Asgardians. It is Asgardians who feed and clothe you-"

"And who keep me imprisoned. Yes, I am ever so _grateful_ for such an opportunity."

"Loki."

Just as the words left his mouth, Loki felt a deep, sharp pang of regret. The look in Thor's eyes only worsened it. It had been a while since Loki referred to Thor as his prison keeper. Those past few days had proven so dreamlike, so lovely, that equating that time to slavery not only hurt Thor, it hurt them both. But Loki didn't dare apologize. Instead, he turned his head away, arms folded around his book. "You've no need to argue, Your Majesty. I'd much rather be absent to such an event." But when he wagered a glance in his direction, he saw only frustration and determination in Thor's stare.

Firstly, he turned to Sif. "Loki will be at my side, and will be treated with respect. Regard him as if he himself is Asgardian from now on." Sif did not seem overjoyed at the prospect, but he did not dwell on it. Instead, he turned to his "servant," his eyes a deal more compassionate. Yet the firm glare within them had not waned. "You cannot hide away in my chambers forever."

"Couldn't hurt to try."

Thor sighed, hand on his hip. "Loki... this is where you will live out the rest of your days. For your own sake, you must _try_ to make it a home."

"Why? To appease you? Your Asgardian friends?"

"You do not question the prince's orders-" Sif began. Thor held a hand up, stopping her rage short. Loki kept his eyes on Thor's the entire time. 

"If you do not," he said quietly, "you will never know peace again."

Those words stuck, hitting him quite hard, and in a way he was not expecting. He knew that Thor's motives were pure and honest. Which was why, although it was against his better judgement, Loki quietly nodded.

"If it will keep you quiet for a few hours... fine." A twitch of a smile hit Loki's lips at the end of such a statement. Sif, of course, was rather enraged at the jab, but Thor's returning smile was enough to keep her in check. With a bow to her prince, Sif left the two alone. Loki quietly cursed her as she wandered away.

"What a _delightful_ woman," he said crassly.

"Mind yourself," Thor warned. "Sif is only concerned. You must remember that war still haunts a soldier long after the fight has ended."

"Hm." Loki cocked an eyebrow at his keeper. "Then why do you find it so easy to smile again? From what I understand, it was you who lead most attacks on my father's land. Surely you have seen enough carnage to silence a man for a lifetime."

Thor let his smile drain just a bit. Maybe Loki was just a good distraction, but in any case, Thor had not thought about the war for some time. His hand flexed on instinct, eyes trailing to the side. "Well." He turned back to the Jotun. That charming, gleam of a grin came back to his face. "Why dwell on the past where there's so much to be done in the present? Now." Sitting back into the grass, Thor pat the spot beside him. "Come on! I must know how Alvar outwits the beast."

Loki hesitated. Was it really ok? To simply ignore the past, and the pain that was felt with it? That smile... Thor wore it constantly. Was it truly him? His happiness? He had said so much about wanting to make Loki happy, but spoke nothing of himself beyond the joy of drink and song. And what hallow joys were those? Loki felt his heart weighing itself down at these thoughts. But should he speak of them? Did he owe it to Thor to let the man be honest? Or was this honesty he was seeing...?

Without a word, Loki sat himself beside Thor, opening the book back up to his marked page. There, in the gentle breeze of the late morning, Loki practically snuggled up against the giant arm of his companion.

"For you see, you are strong. Stronger than I can ever be. I have no doubt that you could break my bones should the inclination arise. And yet you will lose this battle. Why, you may ask? No beast is as powerful as the possibility of the mind..." 


	7. The Price of Kindness

Loki had never attended an Asgardian party before. Oh he'd been taken to public houses and sampled some of the many great endearments Asgard had to offer. But in the near month that Loki had been living there, that night was the first true feast he would partake in. Perhaps it was this reason that made him feel so weighed that night. Drinking with Thor was one thing. This would be a new beast to face for the Jotun. It almost felt as though Loki had been enjoying his own, private world with the Prince of Thunder. Only ow was he so rudely torn from the comforts that he had secretly enjoyed. What would Thor's friends say when he arrived with Loki in tow? Would they say anything at all? Or would their harsh gazes say all that their words could not? For Loki had no doubt that Thor would forbid a word against his companion. But would such a commandment help the situation or worsen it? Would he be reviled all the more because of Thor's insistence that he be accepted? And furthermore... why should he care? This was the question that plagued the ice prince for the remainder of the afternoon. His mind was so fraught with worry, it only made him more confused. Thor had shown him a great many kindnesses since his coming to Asgard. Perhaps it was a need to impress his friends, if only to please the man, that drove him to be so frantic

But no. What a silly notion.

His mind was still buzzing when he and Thor left the prince's chambers to make their way down to the Great Hall. As one of Thor's top generals, Fandral's birthday feast would not be a small venture. A fact that was constantly reminded to Loki from Thor himself.

"...And you must try the venison pie," Thor was saying as they made their way through the corridor. "It was a favorite of mine when I was a boy. Father once said I would eat three in one sitting given the chance. No matter how sick it made me."

Loki lifted a careful brow at his master. A smile christened his thin lips. "Ah. Are the pies to blame for your endowments then?"

"Ha! It is better to be wide and merry than to be blown away by a good wind." Turning, Thor gently pinched Loki's arm. "Look here! Should we ever need a sailboat, I've no doubt you'd make a fine mast."

"And you a fine anchor."

"Come now, I am not so plump." Mindlessly, Thor rubbed his stomach. "Furthermore, my girth is due to battle, not honey and curd. You see here?" From beneath his cloak, Thor actually held up his arm, his bicep thumping in the torchlight. For the feast, Thor had dressed in simple, common wares. Loki as well, though he still wore a bit of fine jewelry he had upon arriving. Yet no amount of modest dress could hide the talent of Thor's body. "Feel if you must. There is no loose skin here."

Loki felt his heart palpitate in the most wonderful way. Far be it from him to value a person solely on their outer appearance, but he'd fallen into the habit of admiring Thor's physique whenever the golden prince was not aware. Now, with it so blatant before him it was hard not to stare. His red eyes bounced between the rippling arm held out before him and the expectant expression Thor stared at him with. Loki, quite half-heartedly, tried to brush him aside.

"Put that away, lest you embarrass yourself," he said.

"What, are you so timid? Don't tell me I have _frightened_ you."

Loki huffed, trying desperately to keep color from his cyan cheeks. With hesitant fingers, he laid his hand on Thor's large, rounded muscle. It was so warm, and so incredibly thick. If his father could see what thoughts were running through Loki's head... What a shame he was! Quickly, Loki yanked his hand away. This, however, did not end their "discussion" of Thor's strength. With a light laugh, Thor scooped his arm around Loki's waist, yanking him up onto his shoulder with ease. Loki made a slight yip in surprise, resting on Thor like a sack of flour.

"Oaf!" he cried. "Put me down!" Despite his protests, Loki hid his smile behind Thor's head.

"You see?" he continued, bouncing Loki a bit. "What fat man could do this with such little care?"

"Yes, yes, you have made your point, now unhand me!"

Chuckling, Thor let Loki slide down to his feet. His arm, however, was not removed immediately. For when Loki was upright, he found himself standing flat up against Thor's chest. Unintentionally, the two had fallen into a strange, one armed embrace, with Loki's hands laying along his breast. While Loki had every inclination to immediately turn away after being set down, he found himself frozen upon being so. His eyes had fixed themselves on the clear blue pools of Thor's face. Loki had never seen such eyes in all his life. The beauty of those eyes was remarkable not only for their deep color, but for the honesty that sat behind them. Loki was transfixed. So, it seemed, was Thor. 

For Thor had just as much intention to let Loki go as Loki had to move away. But in that one, quiet moment, neither could do so. When he first laid eyes on the Jotun, Thor would admit to the prince's charm. There were not many frost giants who held such an elegant disposition. Staring at his face in great detail was only further evidence of his handsomeness. In fact, Thor would be hard pressed to find an Asgardian - man or woman - who had the kind of sweet structure that he did. While some might find the sharpness of his face off putting, Thor had come to know it as he had a painting. Odd at first, but the longer he looked at it, the more priceless it became. Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, but to Thor, Loki was, in many ways, a work of art.

"My Liege."

Thor blinked out of the daze that both he and Loki had fallen into. Taring himself from the Jotun, he turned to see Sif approach them. She bowed politely at Thor, casting her eyes for just a moment at Loki. Not enough to cause a stir, but enough to lock him back into his state of hyper-awareness. "We have only just poured the wine."

"Marvelous," Thor said, his smile returning. "And you have saved two seats?"

Sif hesitated, but she nodded. "As you wished, Highness."

"Very good." Thor laid a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Come, my friend. It is time to introduce you to Asgardian hospitality." With that, the three entered through the giant doors of the great hall. The life of the feast fell on Loki like a warm summer wind. Candles and torches littered the walls, making the hall glow with a warmth he'd yet to fully feel. The table, littered with food and drink of every color and size, sat waiting for them. While Loki hadn't been in much need that day, now he felt hunger crawling every inch of his stomach. He wanted it all! To taste and try every bite presented to him. He had to swallow once or twice to keep water from his mouth.

"Thor!" Loki's attention was drawn when Thor's name was called. Fandral approached, a perfect smile on his face. They embraced, pounding each other on the back. "And here I feared you had grown tired of such events."

"When have you known _me_ to grow tired, Fandral?" The two shared a laugh. "Happy birthday, my friend. And to a great deal more!" 

A great "aye" was shouted from the surrounding warriors. Thor and Loki were seated across from Volstagg and his plate of mountainous food. He was the first to comment on Loki's presence. "I see you've brought the frost giant with you." Loki tensed, but Thor only kept his smile. 

"I cannot leave my servant unattended, now can I?" He pat Loki's back, now addressing those around him. "Loki is a guest this night. After all, such joyous occasions are meant to be shared, yes?" A few laughed at that, Volstagg holding up his meed.

"I can at least drink to that," he said.

While the hefty warrior had his fill of food and drink, Thor turned to Loki's own empty plate. "Go on then," he urged. "Take what you will. Don't be shy."

Loki glanced around the table. Back in Jotunhiem, there were of course dinners and celebrations that he'd partaken in as a child. But those were always such proper affairs. Meals would be served in courses. Chatter was constant, but kept to a dull volume. No one spoke over one another, and certainly no one grabbed food like animals. Yet as he sat there, he realized he must remember that he was no longer in his homeland of ice and snow and rules. So, with one last glance at Thor, Loki reached out and began to take what he liked. Bread rolls and meats and cheeses of every flavor. There was pheasant and sow and some beasts Loki had never seen before. Fruits that he had never known existed, all ripe and perfect to the touch. Soon, he had a colorful pallet of delicacies that thrilled him just by the sight. Thor watched with great amusement as Loki began to sample each and every item on his plate. Reaching out, he poured him a goblet of honey meed.

"Be sure to drink," he reminded him. Loki did so with earnest, finding delight in the flavor. Soon, Thor was filling his own plate and goblet. Loki then came to realize just what kind of appetite Thor had. By the time Loki was done tasting a quarter of his meal, Thor was already on his second helping. The man was insatiable, and soon the story of childhood venison pies vanishing was not too much of a stretch.

But before too long, Thor slowed a bit, taking to nibbling throughout the night. Loki had done the same. The anxiety he once felt started melting away with the wine and storytelling. For there was so much to be said! Valiant stories of battle and victory, love stories, stories that lead to enough laughter to warrant tears. Soon, Loki was nothing but a fellow guest.

"Have you tried these yet?" Thor pulled up a silver plate full of delectable tarts. Loki's stomach gave a lurch.

"Oh..." He rubbed it lightly. "I'm already so full..." But his eyes had not strayed from the sight of these treats. One of his many secrets of his younger years was his fondness for sweets. There would be dinners where Loki would sneak off puddings to eat late at night, sometimes from the kitchens themselves. His father had put an end to his sweet tooth once he grew older, claiming that a prince guzzling down desserts was unsightly. For a while, his shame prevented him from enjoying such delights. But now, there was no one to stop him, no one to scold him. Gnawing at his lip, Loki took the one closest to him. A tart lathered in fruits and cream. Eager with a watering mouth, Loki dug his teeth into the side of the tart. Instantly, the sharp tang greeted him like an old friend. Loki closed his eyes, enjoying the pastry for all its worth.

"Mmm..." He turned to Thor, a tender color coming to his cheeks. "It's... oh, it's _wonderful_. Could we take some with us when we leave?"

"Of course," Thor laughed. "That is no issue. Ah! There are more at the far end. You must try some of the different flavors! Here, I shall fetch them." With the eagerness of a puppy, Thor hopped up, making his way to the other end of the table. Along the way, he got caught into a few conversations, laughing and drinking with all the rest. Loki watched, a kind smile on his face. And to think he once dreaded the man's company...

"So." The low voice of Volstagg drew him from his stare. He turned to the warrior across from him, whose chubby fingers rested against his goblet. "You are the famed Jotun servant of our prince." There was no grace in his voice, nor question. Loki grew stiff, his smile quickly fading. Hands folded in his lap, he remained stone faced.

"Am I famed?" he replied slyly. "I'm honored."

"Don't flatter yourself," Volstagg snarled. "Your infamy is no honor, frost giant." Grabbing a turkey leg, he took a mighty bight, eyes still piercing into Loki's face. "His Highness seems to treat you fondly." Again, not a question. "Not odd of his nature; Thor has always been the trusting sort."

"A rare quality, it seems."

"Bide that sharp tongue of yours. You may be the prince's pet, but you will gain no favor from me. Or any of us." Loki's face fell into a glare as Volstagg continued to eat. "The war is over. But do not think my distrust in you is misplaced, son of Laufey. We know of your family. Your brothers."

"All of whom send their dearest regards to the barbarians who slaughtered my people."

"Oh ho? Is it slaughter you speak of? Perhaps then you can answer for the crimes against the very palace you have made such a home in?"

"It is only home should you not be kept against your will."

"Ha! You act like such a victim. Tell me, it must be so _agonizing_ to live a life of splendor beside our future king. What tortures has he bestowed upon you, cretin? I have only heard the horrors of such things as rose petal baths." Loki said nothing. "I suppose by now you've grown rather comfortable in your place here. Do not doubt, Laufeyson, that Thor does not dote on you out of friendship, but charity." 

"I suppose you are an expert in his charitable nature." 

That had Volstagg grow all the more irritated. Standing, he leaned forward, his fat hands flat against the table. "Do not distract me from the point, boy."

"And what is this point? Surely a man of your _stature_ deals only with rounded edges."

"Urgh!" Volstagg grabbed the dagger used for slicing meat and stabbed the table between them. "Do not test my patience! I know of you, monster. Your tricks. You and your blackmagic family! And I will _not_ stand silent while you blindside my prince into your protector!"

"Ha!" By now, the two were causing a scene, but Loki - for the sake of his pride - would not back down. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded. "Such fools are these Asgardians. Willing to run in fright at an illusion."

"I run from nothing!" In anger, Volstagg yanked his dagger up, threatening to use it should Loki prompt him. Honestly, such an outcome was not far off. "Make a move, _boy_ and see in which direction I go!"

"Very well." Loki snapped his fingers. In a flash of green light, the dagger Volstagg held became a long, slithering serpent, wrapping securely around his thick wrist. With a cry, Volstagg dropped it, letting the creature slink away into the bountiful food. Volstagg, snorting in rage, turned back, but Loki was too quick. He snapped his fingers a second time, causing the grog in his glass to explode, crashing into his ruddy face. With a cry and a flail, Volstagg tumbled backwards, taking with him an entire plate of food that his foot kicked by accident. At this point, the crowd of onlookers had turned with shock to see Volstagg rolling about in filth. Loki was now standing from his bench, a manic grin on his face. With another snap of his fingers, Volstagg's heavy tunic flipped upwards, wrapping around his heavy head.

" _LOKI!_ "

Every ounce of joyous vengeance Loki fled from him like rushing water. Turning, he saw Thor strut towards them both. His heart sunk deep as he realized what he had done. "Stop this immediately, Loki!" Thor demanded. Loki's throat knotted terribly, and his eyes shied downward. With a wave of his hand, all returned to normal. Volstagg was still sopping wet with food and drink, but now he could stand without his tunic strangling him. All was silent as Thor stared daggers at his servant. Finally, he turned to the humiliated warrior, who was now catching his breath and wiping the alcohol from his face. "Are you hurt?" Volstagg shook his head. "Good." Thor turned to Fandral, who had watched the whole situation with shock in his eyes. "Forgive me, Fandral. I will have to retire early."

"Y...yes... of course." The entire hall watched as Thor grabbed Loki by his arm and stormed away. The slamming of the great oak doors echoed throughout the entire palace.

Thor said nothing during their walk back to his chambers. With anger in his eyes he lead Loki up the steps to his bedroom. In any other situation, Loki would be causing a terrible fuss. It was not his fault, after all. Volstagg deserved his embarrassment. He was baited by the fat lard, and Thor should be grateful Loki didn't see fit to set his hair on fire. But while these protests and more flooded his thoughts, Loki spoke not a word of them. He couldn't bring himself to ignore the horrible, sinking feeling of guilt that weighed so heavily on his heart. His guilt did not spring entirely from the regret of his actions. Instead, the true source of his melancholy was abundantly clear, and made him feel all the worse because of it.

He had disappointed Thor.

Such a revelation cut like a knife. It was not made any softer by the time they got to Thor's bedroom. Opening his doors, he tossed Loki inside, following soon after. Loki sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the furs tightly. He could not bare to look up at Thor, and so instead stared at the floor beneath his feet. A silence fell over the two. Loki could practically feel Thor's anger radiate like the heat of the sun.

"What have you to say?" he finally asked. "Tell me. What can possibly excuse such behavior?"

Loki, still unable to look up, spoke in a steady, unknowable tone. "Is it my fault your friend is prone to death threats?"

"Is that why?" Thor demanded. "Is that what prompted this? He threatened you?"

"He held a knife. Is that not threatening?"

"Then why did you not call for me? Why instead did you feel it necessary to disgrace Volstagg before the entire hall?"

Loki was still a moment more. Lifting his head, he stared at Thor with the bravery he did not know he possessed. "Forgive me, my _master_."

"Do not call me that."

"Then do not treat me as your pet!" Loki's body trembled, and he clung to the furs tighter. "I am not a case to be pitied! Nor am I some doll for you to play with! If I feel the need to act, I will not hesitate to do so, Thor! Nor shall I ever apologize for it! I do not _need_ you!"

In a fit of anger, Thor lurched forward, his big hand gripping the back of Loki's neck. The Jotun gasped in surprise, hands on his forearm. "Would you rather I treat you as a _slave_?" he barked. "Would you rather I belittle you as property? _Would you rather I be cruel to you? Would you?_ "

Loki said nothing, and instead struggled against Thor's mighty grip. It crossed his mind that he could use his tricks to aide him, but what good were illusions against a man like Thor? So he could do nothing but keep his eyes closed and hope that whatever abuse Thor would cause him would end sooner rather than later.

But a hand never struck. Thor's hold did not tighten, and in fact loosened against his neck. Carefully, Loki opened his eyes. Thor's own were swimming with anger and distraught, but a slow sadness was beginning to outweigh them. Before too long, Thor had added a hand to Loki's neck, not to strangle him, but to hold his face with care. His thumbs gently rested against the contours of his cheeks. Fingers threaded through Loki's dark hair, and soon, Loki's hands were hanging from his arms only to keep Thor's hands in place.

"Why?" came his softer question. "Why will you not accept that I have come to love you?"

His heart gave a great leap. Thor showed no embarrassment, no exaggeration when he spoke. Of course, in Asgard, the word love was used frequently, and in ways Loki had never seen. The love of friends, of family. Lovers who follow no rules. This was more than a different kingdom, this was a completely different _world_. He couldn't help but think that such a statement was meant only with the thought of friendship in mind. Yet his heart wanted so desperately to believe otherwise.

His mouth now dry, Loki took a moment to collect himself. Softly, he rose from the bed, keeping Thor's hands on his neck and jaw. "In Jotunhiem," he began, "we do not say such things so carelessly." Thor was silent. Without thought, Loki now let his fingertips rest on his cheeks. They were so close together, Loki could count every lash on Thor's bright face. Every follicle in his golden hairline. He could even spot the faded freckles left there for years since childhood. "Love to a Jotun is a serious emotion. It is not meant so lightly."

Thor did not move away. Nor did he even think to do so. He glanced down at the fingers on his cheek. His own hand raising, he laid his against Loki's. There, he flattened Loki's palm on his cheek, turning in to feel it more. A little smile appeared. "Funny," he remarked. "I had always thought Jotuns were cold to the touch." He turned his face in more, to where half his mouth was covered by Loki's thumb. "Yet I feel you now... How warm you are." Looking up, the two threaded their fingers together. Thor's hand had migrated to the small of Loki's back, and ever so gently, he was pulled in. Neither knew what truly overcame them in that moment.

There, in the darkness of Thor's room, their lips met in a firm, sweet first kiss. Loki had never kissed so passionately, yet the action itself was so still. It was as if they were absorbing one another. Their hopes and losses. Everything that made them who they were they shared in that single, solitary moment.

Gently, Loki was lowered to the bed. It might have been a cloud for everything he felt. Thor, laying above him, continued their kiss, now with much more of a passionate flair. Loki's arms linked around Thor's strong neck. He felt his hand sway back and forth along Loki's thigh. His fingers wormed their way inside those precious silks, gently admonishing the skin beneath. Feeling that his tunic was cumbersome, Loki slid it from his body. Thor soon followed suit. Eventually, every article of clothing and jewelry sat discarded along the floor as though they were rags. Thor, hovering atop Loki's body, admired what lay beneath him.

Sleek and slender, with skin painted a beautiful blue. The rivets of his flesh fascinated him, and he let his fingers trace along their hypnotizing swirls. Loki's stomach gave a shudder. He said nothing against it. Never had he seen another look at him with such desire in their eyes. Being the youngest of his brothers, Loki had never expected much. Not in the way of suitors or compliment. There was always a brother that was stronger than he. Smarter. More skilled. To have someone look at him with such an earnest _wanting_... It made Loki happy. Immeasurably so. He let his blue fingers wander up and down Thor's chest, feeling the ridges of his body. 

"This must be nothing new to you," he began slowly. A finger gently brushed against the end of a hair that had fallen from his shoulder. "No doubt you are the desire of many, O Prince of Thunder."

Thor's smile returned to him, his hand reaching down between their manhoods. Loki's was so much thinner than his, but its slender stature lent to it being a tall, almost pretty looking thing. He played with it, feeling the warm skin twitch beneath his fingers. Before long, both of their penises were fresh up against one another.

"Simply because I have made love before does not mean I do so now without earnest." Their noses pressed up against one another, another kiss shared between them. Thor's whiskers tickled Loki's face, allotting him a soft giggle through his nose. Once the kiss was over with, Loki's legs were spread wide, threading themselves around Thor's hips with ease. It was at this point Loki felt nervousness start to make itself known. 

"I... ah... I must ask... Will this hurt?"

Thor's smile was abundant now. With one more kiss, he shook his head. "It will be strange. But this is about pleasure. Not pain." Looking around, Thor spotted a small oil lamp near his open window. Returning with it, he poured a sleek sheen of fine oil along his fingers. Loki's legs still spread, Thor began to wiggle them within him.

At first, Loki gasped, his body tensing. A strange sensation indeed. But not all together unpleasant. As Thor massaged his insides and kissed his legs, Loki felt himself relaxing. Soon, that relaxation turned to eroticism. Head tilted back, Loki's body started surging with pleasure. His cock throbbed as he grew harder because of it. Thor even went so far as to kiss his shaft, making Loki all the more bothered.

Finally, he could stand no more of it. "Please," he purred. Thor let the oil lamp rest on the floor before climbing up above his new Jotun lover. One more kiss between them, and Thor pushed forward. He slid in with slight difficulty, and Loki's body fought to accommodate. Breaking their kiss, Loki let out a cry, his arms tight on Thor's shoulder blades. Thor shifted on his knees, hands cupping beneath his calves, and moved forward even more. Loki was nearly folded in half, his entire body electrified. Finally, Thor began to rock back and forth.

Loki's muscles loosened with every sway of Thor's hips. His toes extended and curled, nails digging slightly into Thor's skin. Loki had had lovers before, but this was entirely new. This was beyond what he could have imagined with a woman. Thor's thick, big body rolled back and forth above him, filling every inch of Loki with a fire he'd never felt in his life, but one that he never wished to do without.

Once Thor found it easier to move, he picked up speed. Kisses were laid along his neck and face, those strong hands fondling his body with great need. They were lost, alone together in their world of pleasure. No words were spoken. None were needed. The heavy breaths of both men clouded their senses. Loki, his back arching the faster Thor went, gripped the back of his hair. Their faces were pressed tightly together. Loki breathed in Thor's ear helplessly, a spark felt down his spine every time Thor's teeth came down on his own. The bed soon began trembling beneath the mighty thrusts of the Golden Prince. Pillows fell from their perches, joining their clothes like fallen leaves.

Loki turned his head aside, his blue face bright with heat and desire. In some strange urge, Thor wrapped his lips around the side of one of his horns and sucked. Loki let out a wail, his entire body convulsing. Thor lifted his head, body still moving in rhythm with their beating hearts. Oh ho. So someone was rather touchy about their horns, were they? Grinning from ear to ear, Thor licked the side, nibbling it at its base.

"Ah!" Loki's nails dug into Thor's shoulder blades, his legs tightening around his waist. Those muscles constricted around Thor's taut manhood. Thor began to feel himself careening towards his edge. Loki was just the same.

Like a clash of thunder, it happened, the two reaching their climax within seconds of each other. After which, the wold seemed to slow down. Thor fell to the side, slipping from Loki with ease. A little pool of white had been painted on the lower part of Loki's stomach. It looked like snow on the flat of an iceberg. Smiling in satisfaction, Thor's massive arms wrapped securely around Loki's body. The Jotun was thoroughly used, and laid limply in Thor's hold. A gentle sigh overcame them both, now curling up together in soft satisfaction.

Outside, neither one noticed that it had begun to rain.


	8. Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, a quick note before we get started on this one - first, sorry it took me a while to update. I do these as stress relievers in between working on my webcomic and submission scripts for a writer's fellowship :3 I will always post when I have the time, though.
> 
> Secondly - a lot of you are worried that there's suddenly a Major Character Death trigger warning. I should explain something about my way of writing fanfictions: generally speaking, if it's multi-chapter, I only have a vague sense of where I want it to end up. The ending of this particular fic has changed 5 or 6 times. Also keep in mind that "major character" to me could mean anyone with speaking lines. (actually I hate the trigger system because it takes out the surprise). So don't be shocked if the trigger warning suddenly isn't there anymore.

Loki was heavy.

That's the only way he could describe himself. His body was heavy, but not wounded. His eyes were shut, but not painfully so. Normally, he would have no issue with waking in the morning. But today, he found his mind sluggish and wanting to stay still. This was the first thing he truly noticed. Conscious but not quite awake, he laid within the sweet embrace of the fur bed, taking in their musky scent. Every intake of breath through his nose caused a light tickle to his face, gently kissing him from his slumber. Slow as he could manage, Loki's eyes began to drift open. The world was fuzzy at first. Golden sunshine of the morning made the world around him unreadable, but pleasant. He heard the faintest chirps of birds on the balcony. The sea, just meters away, sighed against the craggy rocks of Asgard. Each new wave a gentle hum of the world. That's when his eyes focused, and he saw a face before him. The sleeping, peaceful face of one Thor Odinson.

Loki's eyes snapped open and he remained still. He laid there, on his stomach, hands resting naturally beside his head. The fur blanket was laid along his body, hiding his nakedness from the world. For yes, both men were completely devoid of clothes. Daring to look beyond the sleeping Asgardian, he saw a few of his own decorating the ground. While he was previously enjoying the highs of afterglow, Loki's mind dashed all lovely feelings, bringing him into the harsh reality of what had been done that previous night.

Gods... had they really? Loki tried pushing himself up, but found a soreness to his lower half that could only be explained by the obvious. Shame and horror came over his gut and he pressed his face into the pillows. He could still remember every detail. Every embarrassing word he said.

_"In Jotunheim, we do not say things so easily."_

How terrible he must have seemed! How whorish, how easy! Burning with a humiliation he'd not felt in a very long time, Loki covered his head with his hands, curling up in a tight ball beneath the furs. Even if he had the opportunity to return to Jotunheim, how could he ever face his family again? How could he ever return? After such a deed... Where was his head? His mind had been such an ally to him for so many years. Why now did it fail him? Before he knew it, Loki had begun to tremble. With a single night, he had unmade every lesson he ever learned as a child. Acting without thought. And with the act so... so _brazen_. So wrong. Yes. Loki had done wrong...

A hand, soft as a cloud, laid against the back of Loki's head. The little frost giant snapped his face up. Thor had awoken, and was looking upon Loki with those kindly eyes he'd grown to know so well. The prince had a gentle smile on his face, one thumb resting beneath Loki's ear. "Good morning," he said fondly. Loki could not bare to look any longer, and instead pressed his forehead into the pillows. Thor put on a face of confusion, sitting up against the headboard. "Loki...?"

"Please... do not act so charitable towards me today."

Thor's brows knitted tight together. "Charitable? Certainly you do not believe what happened was for charity?"

"No!" Loki trembled even worse. "Do not speak of it! Never again, Thor! Never speak of it in any breath you take! It never happened!"

That had the golden prince go from confused to vaguely upset. "And why should I deny the truth? Was it not you who held me so dearly when we-"

" _I said do not speak of it!_ "

There was a silence. Thor didn't know what to say. His first reaction was to be angry. To curse Loki for his dismissal of what had transpired between them. Thor was a man of many lovers, but never once had he discarded a single one as Loki had. It hurt him, deep down, and in a way he'd never felt before. In fact, Thor would be in the right to be upset over it! Where was the Loki who looked upon him with such love? Such yearning sweetness? With the way he was carrying on, Loki acted more as though Thor was the one who took advantage of their situation. Why, this wasn't the case at all! Never in his life would he _dream_ of overpowering a lover. That was the way of scoundrels and cowards. Yes. Thor had every right in the world to be angry.

But he wasn't. While his gut reaction was to reach for anger, Thor felt something calm him the longer he looked at the hidden Jotun. This was not the act of a factitious bastard. This was the act of a child. Confused and lost and hurting. And then he began to think. Thor recalled all the times before when love making had been brought up in a conversation. Specifically, love making to a man. Loki had grown aghast at the very concept. Every time such a subject was brought up, Loki would shy away, or scold Thor for ever speaking of such a subject. It simply wasn't discussed in Jotunheim, Thor had surmised. But, gazing at the young man now, perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the act of sex wasn't simply hidden in Jotunheim. It was vilified. What a world that would be. And what guilt would that bring to one victim of its teachings...

Gently, Thor laid his hand once again on Loki's hair. He began to pet it, feeling the soft, silky texture of its tendrils. Loki was still for some time, but eventually, Thor's caress loosened his body. Eventually, the frost giant laid flat along his stomach, head to the side as he looked away from Thor. Without a word, Thor leaned downward, laying a kiss on Loki's cheek.

"Please don't," came a weary protest.

"Why are you so averted to me, Loki?" Thor tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"We should not be proud of this. What happened last night was shameful."

"Why?"

" _Why?_ " Loki finally sat up, though kept himself turned away from Thor. His throat was tight, his eyes staring at the floor by the bed. He gripped the fur with a tight hand, as if it would give him comfort. "Because it is - it is not _right!_ In Jotunheim, there are lovers, certainly, but of men and _women_ , of which we are neither! How can you sit there, so blithe in your sin? Have you not realized the gravity of what we have done? The gods do not forgive such trespasses-!"

"And what do the gods care for who we bed?" Thor sat up behind Loki, but did not touch him, as per his request. Instead, he hoisted his knee upwards, letting his arm rest on top of it. "I have never heard these stories of the gods. I know of the world's creation. How the stars and the water made love to birth the dirt, and all the life that comes from it. I know how the sun and the moon are brother and sister, and work together for harmony and peace."

"We do not worship the same gods," Loki spat. His head was bowed, heart sinking dreadfully. "In Jotunheim, there are the gods of Judgement, of Justice, of Life and of Death. It is a mar against them who keep us in balance to stray off the path of creation. Judgement, the husband of Justice, and Death, the husband of Life. These marriages are the basis of all couplings therein. To ignore this... Oh, you do not _know_ what horrible insult we have just committed! In Jotunheim, it can be worthy of death!"

"In Jotunheim, in Jotunheim..." Loki looked over his shoulder slightly. Thor was watching his face, making note of every twitch and sorrowful strain. Thor did not seem so upset. Instead, that smile had returned, just enough to be seen. "Look around you," he said. "We are not _in_ Jotunheim, Loki." Reaching forward, he cupped Loki's jaw, turning him a little further in. "The gods of Asgard are merciful. They are loving and just. They bring color to the world, and life to all it touches." With feathery fingers, Thor let his knuckles trail down Loki's soft, blue skin. He traced a swirl with his index finger, eyes following intently. "You are not bound by the laws of your homeland."

"But am I not compelled by the morality of it?" Loki turned fully, a hand on his heart. "I may be in Asgard, but I am still of the northern mountains! I carry this shame with me now for the rest of my days-!"

"Have the gods struck you down, Loki?" Loki closed his mouth, stalled by the confidence and fervor of Thor's voice. "You sit here. With me. Safe and secure. If these gods are as merciless as you claim, why have they not harmed you? Why do you still breathe?"

"I... it..." Loki found himself hesitant. Truth be told, he had no real interaction with Jotuns that had committed such crimes. He had always assumed that after an act, those who perpetrated the laws would have been diseased by the will of the gods. His father dealt with many a criminal, and as a child, he was told that this was the case. Yet he looked down at himself. His skin did not peel from his bones. His genitals remained in tact. But Loki could not admit that Thor was right. "Punishments do not always happen immediately. When I fall to the afterlife, I will be judged wanting and tortured for eternity."

Thor sighed, his fingers laced through his shaggy, honey mane. "How far away is Jotunheim to Asgard?" he asked.

This question caught him off guard. "Ah... when I was taken it was... two days travel."

"Two days. Two days between the mountains of the north and the palace by the sea. And in those two days, where did your gods end and mine begin?" Loki had no answer. "I cannot say which is right. No mortal man has that capacity. But I will say this." He took Loki's hand in his. "If the gods do smite those who love all without scrutiny, then I shall be waiting for you in the afterlife." Their hands tightened. Loki, while still not entirely convinced, felt a sort of relief wash over him. A weight, which once threatened to collapse his heart, began to lessen. Why? Why did Thor have this power? Why did he know what to say, when to say it? Loki felt a great emotional strain on his soul.

Helplessly, he leaned forward, folding into Thor's chest. He knew of no other place he could cling to and feel such safety. Thor wrapped his arms around him, encapsulating Loki with his thick, heavy arms. Loki knew peace there.

Would the gods punish him for feeling this way? He had always assumed so. But Thor made him doubt. Made him question. Something he'd never dared do in all his life.

Slowly but surely, Thor was changing him.


	9. Unlikely Advice

"How long will this take?"

"No longer than a few hours."

"But why? It's only a festival you're planning for."

"Only a festival? Oh, Loki, you have not _lived_ until you have seen the Spring Festival of F ertilitet!"

"According to you, I'm missing several prerequisite events for living."

"Ah!" As they walked themselves to Odin's chambers, Thor waved his hand in the air, pushing aside Loki's drab attitude. "The Festival of Fertilitet celebrates the spring! It's the life that it brings, the new birth of the universe. The fruits of the harvest have ripened, the world is renewed. The kingdoms of Vanaheim, Niflheim, Alfheim... they all come to Asgard for feasts and competition. Food is abundant, and the sport - ha! The sport is plenty! Some festivals have gone on for weeks!" Currently, Thor was brighter than the mid-morning sunlight. Loki couldn't remember a time Thor had been so jovial. The man was practically bouncing off the walls with glee, yammering on and on about the joys of what was to come. Mostly, it was amusing, even more so to undervalue his beloved festival and watch him jump at the chance to defend it. It got Loki smiling, his hands tucked casually behind his back. 

"It sounds to be quite an ordeal," he remarked. "Will it be held here? At the palace?"

"Oh no," Thor returned. "We leave the palace for a few days. The sheer amount of events that take place in the festival are enough to warrant a far bigger area. We travel inland, a few miles to the west. One year, I remember, the tents reached so far they nearly vanished into the woods."

"Tents then." Loki screwed up his face. "I was never fond of tents. Drafty things. Damp. Windy." 

"In the mountains, perhaps. But the Festival of Fertilitet has always been blessed with sunshine and warmth. There are some nights when it is warm enough to watch the stars along the grass." Calming a bit, Thor turned his smile to his frost giant friend. "We will be sharing space, of course. So I shall always be there to warm you." That had Loki stop walking. His eyes immediately downturned to the stone beneath his feet. Thor, pausing as well, stared at Loki's sudden change of mood. 

It had been a week. A week since their time together. Thor hadn't pushed since then. As a matter of fact, their coitus hadn't made conversation in the slightest. In a way, Loki was grateful for this. It'd given him time to clear his head. Get his affairs in order. Yet he still had no idea how to react or what to say. Now, standing together, they finally stumbled upon that point. The crossroads of reality and denial. 

Was it really so terrible that Loki had fallen into Thor's arms? Considering he hadn't grown into a leper in the time between then and now, he'd have to assume not. It went against every moral in his upbringing, and yet Loki was no fool. When faced with the truth of the matter, it would be unwise of him to ignore it. He chanced a look upwards. Thor was waiting, patiently, for some kind of response. Loki found himself wanting to nestle into that embrace once more. Did this make him such a terrible person? And Thor... The man was so patient. Unbelievably so. Loki had never had this ability to wait for another this way. More often than not, if a lover displeased Loki, or lingered for so long, the young prince would grow tired and leave to his own devices. What was Thor's trick? What was his flaw?

"Your Highness." A voice caught them both off guard. They turned to see Lady Sif, her head bowed in respect, approach Thor. When she straightened, she kept stiff as a board, as usual. "Your father awaits you." Ah. They'd already arrived at Odin's chambers. Loki felt a gut wrench, almost wanting to prolong this silence, if only to work up the courage enough to speak. 

"Thank you, Sif," Thor said with a nod. He turned to Loki then, face apologetic. "I'm afraid my father is not apt to hosting guests in private these days. It shouldn't be long." 

So he was to wait with the tart who hated him? Loki glanced at said tart, but she hadn't made a move, nor cast a glance his way. "Of course," he finally said. "I would love to." He hoped his sarcasm was just subtle enough to not cause another uproar.

With a sigh, Thor turned and vanished into his father's doors. That left the corridor in a terrible, stubborn silence. Neither party wanted to speak, yet neither were brave enough to leave first. Loki once more flicked his eyes into her direction. Really, should he judge her so harshly? Granted, he had no doubt that if her loyalties were not as strong as they were, she would not hesitate to strike him down. Loki doubted that he had the strength to stop her if she did. Yet he found himself willed towards her, eager to speak, but not to engage in an argument. What he truly wanted to talk about was Thor. 

"Is he always like that?" he finally asked.

Sif turned sharply to Loki, hand resting on her dagger. "Do not speak ill of my prince," she warned.

"But is it not strange?" he continued. "The man is the stuff of legend, or so I've been told. Battling through war and horrors, and yet - "

That seemed to relax the woman a bit. "And yet he still smiles like a child at play." There was a moment of understanding between the two. Sif's hand did not leave her dagger, but her shoulders relaxed just so. "Yes. He's been that way ever since he was a child." Her lips twitched lightly. "Though back then he was rather selfish."

"Eh?" Loki's brows raised high. Now there would be many names used to describe Thor. Gargantuan, childish, pigeon-toed... handsome... strong... But "selfish?" In the time he knew him, Thor was anything but. "How is that possible?" he said. 

"War changes you," she replied. "When he and I grew together, things were different. He was, after all, the only heir to the throne of Asgard. He took much for granted-" Sif stopped herself. Clenching back up, she turned away. "Why are you so interested?"

Loki teetered on the truth. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to it. "I don't understand him." Not quite a lie. "If I am to live - to  _serve_ him, I must begin to."

Sif took this into consideration. "Come," she finally said. "This is no place to speak." She lead Loki from the corridor and towards a small sitting room. It was empty, luckily, and the two sat across from one another on opposite benches. A small table was shared between them. "Drink?" Sif motioned for the wine decanter a few feet away. 

"No, thank you." A politeness rested between them. One Loki was starting to get comfortable with. "So you've known Thor all your life then? Closely?"

"I have. I am the daughter of King Odin's former general. He and I trained together under the same master. He was a piggish boy back then. Demanding, easily angered... There was once a time when I had beaten him, and he demanded we fight until he won. We both ended up falling in exhaustion." The two laughed together, Loki imagining a pudgy faced Thor red with jealousy that he'd been beaten. "I rather detested him. I could never say so, of course. Else he'd have his father's guards throttle me. The only pleasure I could get from his company was beating him in training. 

"We grew older. A little wiser. Thor became less of a piglet and more of a boar. He was still demanding, yes, but possessed his mother's charm. Even if he was not royalty he probably could have still gotten what he wanted. I will admit that even I began to sway into his favor. We were only sixteen when the fighting began." 

Loki felt his heart droop a bit. The start of their war. A war which lasted ten years. Was Thor really so young when he saw such bloodshed? Loki was only a child himself when his father announced that they would be going to war; he'd barely seen his thirteenth winter. Loki noticed that Sif had stopped her story. Sincerity in his eyes, Loki leaned forward, gently touching her wrist. "Please. Continue." 

Sif, whose face had dropped several inches, nodded and continued speaking. "Back then, Thor and I had only ever seen the sparring ring. We were so consumed with the idea of valor. Of honor and glory. We cared little for the loss of life, and saw the battlefield as just another challenge. These views changed the moment we had our first taste of it." 

Loki, his chest heavy, swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry," he said. "No child deserves such a Hell. I know I cannot possibly understand what you both went through." 

"There are days I barely understand it myself. We both grew into adulthood, bathed in blood of the fallen. In those rare moments of peace time, Thor partook in the best wines, the richest foods we could possibly ask for. There were times when I thought he hadn't changed at all. Others when I knew he'd changed too much. In some ways, it was for the better. He began to lead. To understand the plights of those around him in ways I can't imagine. Yet in his new good nature he became harder. On himself, on his emotions. He refused to show weakness, and instead focused on getting our soldiers to their next day. The war is over, but these days... there are still moments where I think he does not realize it." 

Loki was nervous now. They'd come to the end of Thor's story, and the beginnings of Loki's questions. So far, he and Sif had done well. They weren't at each other's throats, anyway. But first, he figured it'd be best if he did a little talking himself. 

"Your... friend." Sif looked up. "The one I... well..."

"Assaulted?"

"Yes. Could you - could you apologize for me?"

Sif looked at him discerningly, tapping against the table. The twinkle of a smile came to her lips. "Well," she began slowly, "it's not as though he didn't deserve it. Volstagg doesn't do well to watch his mouth from time to time."

"I've noticed that." 

Finally, the pair of them broke into laughter. "I will admit," Loki said. "I may have misjudged you, Lady Sif." 

"I believe both sides are guilty of that." Leaning back a bit, she let her arms rest casually on the table. Thankfully, her dagger was long forgotten. "Tell me. You did not engage me simply to know Thor's history. Where does your true curiosity lie, frost giant?" She paused. "Loki." 

There was a small smile on his lips. "Ah. Curiosity. Right." What a curiosity it was. He anxiously picked at his fingernails, sitting up a bit straighter. "You say you did not... er... care for Thor's company for some time." He paused, fidgeting a bit more. "Did you ever... ah... hah... erm. Did you ever... _begin_ to?"  


Sif tilted her head. "I don't follow." 

"As a-" Loki looked around, still very uncomfortable with this whole "speaking about sex in public" tradition. "Were you and Thor ever...? Did you ever...?"

"Were we lovers?" Loki felt a slight jolt to his senses, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he nodded, staring at the table top. "Yes," she admitted without shame. "For a time. Once before the fighting. A few times during. Once or twice after." Gods, she said it all so casually! "But then, this is not uncommon with Thor. He's slowed down of late, but there was a time when he had several at once." 

"Yes, I've heard," Loki mumbled, his head in his hand. "Surely that must have driven a wedge between the two of you. Is that why you've stopped since then?" 

Sif blinked in surprise. "A wedge...? I think you misunderstand. He had several lovers. Mine were not as numerous, but I had my own as well. It was not an issue." 

Now that _really_ sent Loki for a loop. Sitting up straight, his eyes were wide and his jaw was slack. "Is this... is this common place in Asgard?" he squeaked.

"Oh yes," said Sif. "The only lovers who do not partake in other activities are married ones." 

The sound Loki made there after was a cross between a beached whale and a pining fox. "So only a husband and wife stay virtuous?" 

"Yes. Or a man and his husband. Or a woman and her wife." 

" _Come again?_ " Loki exclaimed. 

"What? Is this so surprising? What is marriage like in Jotunheim?" 

Loki sat there, completely gobsmacked. His eyes were the widest they'd ever been in his life. For a brief moment, he almost forgot how to breathe. No _wonder_ tales from Asgard were filled with such immorality-! Loki had to stop himself. For it was not too long ago that he engaged in such a sin. He took a moment to collect himself. Hands on the table, he considered the issue that lay before him. Right. So being Thor's lover was not so unique. In fact... who was to say he didn't have lovers stashed away in every corner of the palace? Suddenly, Loki's shock turned into melancholy. He knew that this was the way of Asgard, but to think that Thor being with other lovers as so common a sight... It wounded him. Perhaps that's why he was so patient with Loki. Because where Loki would fail, Thor could always find another. 

"You're saddened," Sif remarked, her face confounded. "What has upset you?"

Loki was too pained to say. So instead, he shook his head, forcing a smile on his lips. "Nothing. I just... will have to get used to life here, I think." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The barrels of meed are already on order. They should be here by the morrow. It will be up to you to make sure they and all supplies needed are accounted for."

"My men will be held accountable, I promise you."

"Do so. We do not want a repeat of last year." 

Even though his father was speaking sternly, Thor couldn't help a tiny smile on his face. Last year, the men who'd been in charge of the meed for the feast had ended up cracking open three barrels. Eventually, they were too drunk to not only do their jobs, let alone stand upright. Thor cleared his throat, his father having given him a telling stare. Leaving it for now, Odin turned back to the map that lay on his table. There was an expected six thousand people to show for the festival. Because of the war, this would be the first great festival in ten years. Each one since the beginning of the battles had grown a little bit smaller. Now was the chance to have it live up to its full potential. The map of the flatlands before them was five times the size of Asgard's palace, yet it threatened not to hold that many. Thankfully, both father and son had been working on moving the areas around until both visitors and areas for sport fit perfectly. 

"Is there anything else we need to go over?" Thor asked.

"Yes," Odin said. "That servant of yours."

Instantly, Thor's smile fell, his body going still. "What about him?"

"I have heard that he is being treated as some sort of pet." Odin's eye was sharp, his hand resting on the edge of his table. "I hear that he eats at your side. Sleeps at your side. Is nothing short of a guest in your company."

Thor felt a defense rise within him. "I was asked to treat him as I wished. Is his treatment not up to my own discretion?"

"It is, my son. But you must remember, there are those who still fear the Jotuns. Those who have lost and sacrificed and been hurt by their kind." There was no hiding the subtext behind these words. Odin went on. "If your servant is to accompany you to the festival, I need your word that he will be treated as such. For the other kingdoms to see him in such high esteem so soon after the end of war... It may cause strife we are not prepared for." 

Thor wanted to argue. But he couldn't deny his father's points. After all, the festival was only a few days long. Loki could pour wine for a few days. He nodded in agreement. Still, it did not sit well with his gut. 

"Good," said Odin. "Now, I've a few letters to send. Do not forget your duties." Being excused, the prince turned to leave. "And Thor." He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Do not take this as personal. If your mother could see you now... she more than anyone else would want nothing but kindness to be done to that boy. You know this." 

That, at least, left Thor with a sense of warmth. The loss of his mother was something he still battled with, but her goodness and virtue of character still stayed with him. Her lessons of fairness had nearly gone unheeded for so many years. If only she had lived to truly see what her son had done with those lessons now. 

With one last nod, Thor left Odin's chambers, and came upon an empty hall. Confused, he turned a corner to find Loki and Sif speaking quietly to themselves. Thor cocked a brow.

"Well, well." His voice caused both of them to turn, Loki looking a little jumpier than his cohort. "Is this not a pleasant sight? How now, what have I interrupted?"

Sif smiled. "Nothing of great importance, Majesty." Standing, Sif bowed respectfully, his hands folded in front of her. "If your meeting with Odin is finished, I will be on my way." 

Thor nodded, and Loki stood as Sif walked out. After a moment of consideration, Loki quickly followed. "Sif!" She turned to him, pausing in her stride. "Thank you." 

The warrior simply smiled and went on her way. Thor looked between the two of them, his gaze curious. "Ho ho...? What is this in your eyes, Loki?" The Jotun snapped to his master as Thor prodded his side. "What tenderness is in your face, my friend? Have you grown fond of Lady Sif?" 

"In passing, yes," Loki huffed. "She is a fine conversationalist. Better than _most_." 

"Ha!" Thor put his hands on his hips, looking all the more impressive. "Well then? Are you in need of invitation? Go, speak to her! Perhaps she is willing to do more than converse with you, eh?"

Loki should have been embarrassed, but those words brought only the anguish from before. Gaze lowering, he now looked fairly crestfallen. "Perhaps you would rather converse with her instead, Thor." 

"Hm? Oh I have not been with Sif in some time. Not since the war ended. We were both rather relieved, to be honest, so..." His words trailed off. Loki was silent, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. "Loki? Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing. _Nothing_ is the matter." Now wrapped in an angry buzz, Loki began to march away. Thor, baffled by the sight, quickly caught up. "Please, do not let me stop you. Pursue the Lady Sif, relive your glory days!" 

"Loki, why are you suddenly so frantic? Calm down, man, let us speak-!" 

"What is there to say? Surely you are beyond words! Well I will not stand between you and your hobbies, my dearest prince! No need to escort me back, I assure you I know the way by now!" 

Having grown quite tired of this, Thor stepped in front of Loki, hand quickly going to the wall to his side. Now, Loki was trapped between both of his arms, keeping him still. Rather than try and slip away, Loki pressed himself up against the wall, eyes closed. He didn't dare look into Thor's. Else his resolve might give way. 

"You are not being honest with me," Thor glowered. "Now I have given you time. Your choices are your own, and I will respect that. But I will not have you avoid me." His voice grew softer. "Calm yourself. Breathe. And then tell me what troubles you." 

Slowly, Loki opened his eyes. There he was, his face as caring as ever. Even with what new information he had been given, he could not find it in him to be fully angry. Loki took Thor's advice, and before long, he spoke. Honestly and without shame. 

"Sif and I. We spoke of you." Thor quirked his brow, but said nothing. "She told me of your younger days. Of the kind of man you were- are." 

"Should I be worried?" Thor put his hand against Loki's cheek. Without thinking, Loki let his head nestle firmly into it. His own hands went to hold Thor's wrist.  


"She told me of your many lovers," he went on. "How you and she would have numerous at one time. And that this is nothing unusual." 

Thor, his thumb resting beneath Loki's eye, spoke without hesitation. "Of course it isn't," he said. "There were times when Sif and I would even share the same lovers. I do not own the people I take to my bed. They are free to do as they please. As am I."  


That stung. His chest constricting, Loki looked up. "But in Jotunhe-" He stopped himself. Realizing he was falling into his old pattern, he started a different way. "I know things are different here, Thor. I am slowly learning. But if... if this is to continue..." He laced his fingers through Thor's hand, keeping him there. "I cannot bare the sight of you with another. Man or woman. If you are to be mine, you must be _mine._ " 

Thor's face twisted slightly. "But why?" he asked. "We are not married." 

"Then act as though we are!" he pleaded. "I realize I have little to offer you. That this is much of me to ask. I am not like your beautiful Asgardian maids, nor like your soldiers whose strength excites you. But I... I have always known love to be a place of security. If I am to see you bed another... would that mean I am not enough? Would that mean that I have done nothing to satisfy you?"

Thor was stunned into silence. He'd honestly never thought of it that way. Nor had anyone of his past. Loki truly had a different way of looking at the world. A harsher way, and in some instances where it would be almost impossible to break. Thor could see the fright in Loki's eyes. Fear of what? Rejection? Denial? While Thor had indeed become use to such a way of life, he was not so cruel. Leaning forward, he laid a kiss on Loki's head. As if he was pushing away the fear. 

"If that is your wish," he said quietly, "I will abstain from all but you." He pulled away, their hands held between them. "But I require something in return. Indeed, this is much to be asked of me, and comes with a hefty price." Leaning in, Thor pushed the tips of their noses together, his smile having returned. "You must promise me to be honest for the rest of your days. You will be true to the desires held prisoner in that cold heart of yours. Never look upon yourself with disdain. Never with uncertainty or loathing. If you can do this, I will be loyal to you as though you were my husband." 

His words were like the sun itself. Bright enough to be painful, but needed. Loki trembled against him. Was this all that he truly required? Loki's free will? It was more of a gift than a price to pay. He could not contain himself. Twice within the week, he came close to tears. His whole body shook, and with a jerk, he latched himself around Thor's shoulders, letting the man hold him close to his breast. There they stood, alone in their world. After some time, Loki pulled back, and their lips locked in a sealing, passionate kiss.  


It was in this moment of bliss that neither one noticed an eye from down the way. Odin, having left his chambers, letters in his arm, came to a stop to find his son in the embrace of his Jotun servant. He watched as Thor held him as tenderly as he had once held his wife. Something cut him then. Something deep, something strong, and something very, very poisonous. 

Turning away, Odin left through another hall, leaving the lovers none the wiser.


	10. Between the Rose Petals

The palace was abuzz for days on end. The festival, nearing the tail of the month, was fast approaching. to Loki, it was all a myriad of endless orders. Hours and hours of set up for something he could barely picture. Kegs of drink, carts of food. Thousands upon thousands of pounds of it all, and still there was more to come. Thor was busy in these days, making sure he could organize as much as he possibly could. This left Loki much to his own devices. Thor was so busy, it was evident that the little frost giant had nothing else to entertain him but counting the hours. So, he allowed him a bit of free reign. Never outside the palace walls, of course. Mostly, Loki was seen at the library, using this time alone to tare through those countless titles he wanted so so much. As for Thor, he could only be thankful that his companion had something else to entertain him. That way, he could focus on the matters at hand.

"And how are the horses? The oxen, the sows, are they all fed and watered?"

"Yes, Highness. They are kept in top condition-"

The stable boy's speech broke as a shrill whinny sounded behind them. Turning, they saw a large, black colt, its mane frayed and shaggy, try to bust out of its handlers' clutches. Thor turned his less-than-amused glance back at the stable boy, who had little to say for such a sight. With a huff, the prince marched forth, grabbing the reigns of the jittery animal. Immediately, the beast tried to buck away. Thor was too quick. He'd dealt with many an angry animal in his day. Nothing he could not handle. With a simple spring from his knees, Thor leapt onto its back, no saddle needed, and yanked on the horse's reigns. The colt tried desperately to throw Thor from its back. Thor remained firm. With his powerful arms, he stayed the horse's muzzle. Eventually, a calm fell over the animal, and Thor loosened his grip. Leaning in, he pet its thick neck, thanking it for heeding him. The stable hands looked on with awe.

Easily as he had ascended, Thor dropped off its back and onto his feet. The hands quickly lead the calmed horse back into its pen, feeding it hay. "Top condition," Thor repeated, eyes on the stable boy. The lad cleared his throat, turning his eyes away. Thor could not help if he had become a little irritable these days. He had not had the opportunity to plan a festival in some time. Even when he was a boy he had little to do with it. Now a grown man, so much was expected of him that he felt a little winded. Commanding an army was nothing when compared to deciding the plates of thousands of guests.

"Ah, there you are, my liege!" The unmistakeable voice of Fandral did not do well to ease his poor mood. The man was bright faced as ever, his smile ever charming. Thor only grunted, turning away and going to his next needed point. Fandral accompanied him with ease. "And how are we this afternoon?"

"I've not had a decent rest for two days. How should I be?"

"Oh, tut tut! Mind your temper, my dear prince! Why, we these are glad days, and should be celebrated as such!"

"Huh." Rubbing his eyes, Thor looked over a list of supplies, which was handed to him by a passing servant. Thor counted the expected barrels of ale before looking over the tops of what was actually there. "I say the truth, my friend, when I will only be glad once this blasted festival is over."

"What? You've _always_ loved F ertilitet! Where is the bright eyed boy I shared so many springs with?"

"Buried beneath mounds of busywork - YOU THERE!" Thor's voice carried like the thunder he was known for. A man, merely a meter off, jumped a foot in the air. Trembling, he looked up to his prince. "I count only fifty eight barrels!" he barked. "Where are the other twelve!?" Meekly, the man looked around the rows and rows of barrels, counting each in turn. With timid eyes, he turned back to Thor, looking as confused as a newly born deer.

Fandral, seeing Thor's anger mount, let out a chuckle. "Thor." He reached up and, quite boldly, took ahold of Thor's head and turned it. There were the twelve missing barrels. Just off to Thor's right. Thor blinked.

"Oh," he said. He turned back to the trembling servant. "As you were!" With a nod, he rushed back off to his work, causing Fandral to laugh.

"Oh my friend. My dear friend." He took the paper from Thor's hands, holding it out of his reach. "Look at yourself. You are turning a cause for celebration into a burden to be feared! Have you not had a break from all this planning?"

"I cannot afford it," he confessed. "There is still so much to do."

"At this rate, I doubt you will even enjoy your time when the festival _does_ come! Don't tell me you will be too exhausted to compete this year?" Thor's face put on a worried expression. No doubt it meant just that. "This will not due, Thor. If I am to once again sweep the competition in sword play, I must have you standing as a victor in strength beside me! Come now. This can't be too difficult. Go, relax. I shall take up your duties for the day."

"But Fandral-"

"This is not a negotiation, dear fellow! You may be my prince, but my companionship supersedes such auspicious titles." Fandral waved his hand about, a knowing smirk on his pointed lips. Thor let a sigh of relief come over him. A weary smile on his own, he nodded, kissing the man's temple without embarrassment.

"You are more stubborn than I at times, my friend."

Fandral let him have the last word, and stood aside to make a path for the fatigued prince. Rather than return to his room, Thor felt the dirt under his nails and the soreness of his feet call him otherwise. Taking a turn down the steps, he found himself in the bath rooms. They were elegant areas, with baths built into the marble floors. The water was hot, and constantly flowing. The entire room was often thick with steam, and the smell of flora. For rose petals were used to accentuate the natural oils and scents that were added to the bath water. Thor had not had a soak in days, and almost too quickly shed his clothes to do just that. He slid himself into the water, a great exhale leaving his lips.

Gods, had it really only been four days of planning? The festival wouldn't begin for another three and yet Thor felt like he had years to go. But right then, sitting among the warm waters of his bath, Thor decided to be troubled by it. Instead, he dunked his head fully in the water, letting his matted, golden mane soak. When he came back up, he let his mind unravel, arms floating listlessly at his sides. He put away his troubles of the moment and instead let his thoughts wander. They wandered, eventually, to the person they had so many times before.

Loki. One would think that after coupling, things would be easier to manage. This was not so. For as pompous as Loki was, he was shy. Thor had never dealt with shy before. At night, when they lay abed together, and Thor had had his evening's wine, he wanted so desperately to shed Loki's clothes. To feel that flesh under his fingers again. It would not be so bad, of course, if he had other routes for his sexuality to travel. But alas, the man was true to his word. If Loki wanted Thor to remain focused on one lover, and one alone, then that was what Thor would do. But damned if it wasn't a pain.

Since the war had ended, Thor hadn't allowed himself to dwell on intimacy. Battle changes a man. Where once he would have taken every opportunity to bed all he could, Thor found himself slowed, and instead took those moments to reflect. To think. Now, things were different. Loki had awakened in him that raw need that he knew so well. Once awakened, it was difficult for him to deny what he wanted. But whenever such urges came, whenever the temptation to just _sneak away_ reared its head, Thor stopped himself immediately. For as long as he loved Loki, and he, Thor, the Asgardian prince swore that he would uphold his promise. Even if he had to be celibate until the end of his days.

With a frustrated sigh, Thor let his body sink into the water, stopping it just beneath his eyes. He blew a cluster of bubbles out from his nose, hair drifting around him like water lilies. Perhaps he should just... take care of it himself? Ha! He had not touched himself since his boyhood. How sad he must consider it as an adult. And even so, it was not the same.

Like a pond frog, Thor floated back and forth in the tub, pacing with only his nose above the surface to breathe. It was on the second lap around the elaborate bath that Thor felt a pain in his neck. Sitting up above the water, he pressed on it, wincing in a sharp jerk. It was from all that bloody reading he had to do. Lists and orders and charts and allocations... Grumbling to himself, he twisted his neck a bit, but did not hear it pop. Deciding he'd try to work the pain out later, Thor began to rub a bit of lye together, making a froth in his hands. It was then he began washing himself.

"Make sure to get behind your ears."

Pausing, the bather looked up from his bowl to see a figure standing there. Loki, in casual wear and a book in hand, was smiling down at the prince. "Good. That flamboyant friend of yours said you'd be here. With how little he cares for me I half expected him to send me to the dungeons."

"Fandral?" Thor questioned. He continued washing himself, scratching a bit of dirt from his arms. "Yes. I will have to thank him. He's graciously taken up my duties for a spell so that I might clear my head." Turning, Thor laid himself in the corner of his bath. Loki settled beside him, legs crossed.

"And what, praytell, keeps the Prince of Thunder's mind so busy?"

Thor, one eye opened, looked to his lover. "It's this hellish planning. War was never so complicated." Eyes both fully closed, Thor let his head rest on the floor behind him, arms stretched on either side. He could, however, only do that for so long until the damned kink came back. Face soured, Thor pulled his head up and ground his knuckle into the base of his neck. "Damn..."

"Something hurting?" Loki asked.

"I am not like you," he said plainly. "I cannot spend ours on end bent over papers."

Loki couldn't help his smile. "Have you tried rubbing it?"

"What do you think this is?"

"No, not like that... Gods, Thor, do you mean to cure it or make it worse? Here, stop, stop. I will help." Loki scooted up behind Thor, his little hands going to the man's shoulders. Instantly he felt his ailment lessen, but not all the way. Thor glanced over his shoulder. Normally, he would not press, particularly since Loki had been so uncertain of himself lately. But he simply couldn't help it...

"You've no good angle from there. Come." He pat the water. "Sit beside me. I'm sure we could both use a soak, hm?"

Loki paused, hands lingering. What to do, how to do it? Loki was still a bit at ease but... If Thor's conditions were that he be honest with himself, then right now, a bath with Thor sounded absolutely lovely. Taking the clothes from his body, Loki slipped into the sweet smelling water, Thor turning with a smile to allow Loki room to work. The Jotun did so with care. His fingers worked circles around and around Thor's muscles. Feeling the stiff bones that lay beneath. Looking around, Loki spotted a small bowl of oil. Taking it, he instantly recognized the smell of aloe and spread some on his fingers. Now with lotion on his hands, he proceeded to massage Thor's shoulders and neck.

A long, drawn out sigh escaped the man. Loki could feel his entire body practically fall apart under his fingers. "Ahhh..." His heavy head drooped to one side as Loki kneaded his thumbs into the base of Thor's neck. "Mmm... Gods. Where did you learn such skill?"

Loki smiled in spite of himself. "There are things one does not learn. Just things one _knows_."

"What magic let you know a trick such as this?" Thor's smile was wider now, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed Loki's healing hands. "It is truly a miracle you are preforming."

Loki felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Come, it's not so miraculous." Still, he couldn't help the little twinge of pride in his chest. Who knew something as simple as a compliment would evoke such a pleasure within him? And speaking of pleasure... Loki's smile fell as a nervous expression replaced it. Hands slowing, Loki scooted into the giant landmass before him and, very carefully, laid a kiss on Thor's jawbone.

Thor opened his eyes just a bit. His head turned slightly, their lips nearly coming in contact with one another. Still, Thor stalled. He wanted it. He wanted so badly to just reach out and take it. But he couldn't. Not unless he knew that Loki felt the same. "You are tempting me, my dear Jotun," he cooed.

Loki would be lying if he said he didn't feel the urge. It was balled up within him, and any minute now it would eventually careen out of control. Without a word, he leaned in, giving Thor a sweltering kiss. Thor returned it tenfold, his thick arms wrapping tightly around Loki's lean body. Before long, he was put in Thor's lap, the two of them locked into an unthinkable embrace. Thor's body was already reacting. Before long, his hardness was up against the base of Loki's spine. It twitched, taunting the frost giant with what it longed for. Thor could feel Loki's own manhood twitch to life on his stomach. Both of their bodies responded with honesty, yet even so, Thor remained vigilant. He stayed himself just enough to pull away, eyes imploring.

Gently, Loki nodded.

That was all Thor needed. His smile great, they exchanged one last kiss before his big fingers went down to slowly open Loki's end. With the water and oils working together, his fingers easily slipped inside, feeling the warmth of Loki's body. His breath, noticeably, became just a slight frequency louder. Loki laid his head on Thor's shoulder, body curving so that he might have an easier time exploring what lay beneath the surface. Thor's other hand gripped him tight, stroking Loki until he felt those muscles loosen in anticipation.

Thor licked his lips, hips moving upward just slightly. Before long, his illustrious cock was sliding so easily into Loki's expectant body. It was still tight, so Thor went slow, even though every inch of him wanted to start thrusting. Loki let out a small cry, but not of pain. Shivers ran up and down his spine as he allowed Thor in. Their lips met on several occasions. With each passing kiss, Thor swayed his hips up and down. The water splashed around them like tidal waves. Eventually, both Thor and Loki grew tired of the slow, grinding motions. With a sharp turn of his hips, Thor pushed from the wall of the bath, and began to bounce Loki from his thighs.

"Ah-ah-a-hah!" Loki tightened his arms on Thor's neck, yearning for the sharp, sweet bursts of fire that hit him every time he came down again. His mouth was wide, eyes shut tightly. Thor's teeth came down several times on his blue skin and taut neck. Oh Loki was delicious, certainly. And Thor wanted to enjoy every last bite.

"AH!" Loki's nails dug into Thor's shoulders. Thor, at this point, was on his knees, thrusting upwards and keeping himself balanced by way of Loki's weight. The once calm bathwater drowned the rose petals in an ever lasting tempest of waves. Some, bouncing along the surface still, stuck to the skin of the two men. Like kiss marks.

Knees starting to give way, Thor turned them about, pressing Loki against the ledge of their bath. The balls of his feet pressed down on the stone of the bath and Thor continued. The edge dug sharply into Loki's spine, but he hardly noticed. His knees were up high, sticking out of the water like islands. Slowly, his eyes opened. He caught a glimpse of the man thrusting so feverishly above him.

Gods above Thor was a beautiful man. In every sense of the word. Everything from the sweat of his brow, to his tangled hair to the landscape of his glorious body. Loki was enamored. Desperately, he clung to Thor's hair, bringing him down for yet another kiss. Those spindle legs wrapped around his large midsection, bringing him in closer. There would be no mistake this time. No regret, and no shame.

Loki was his. As was Thor. There was no wrong in that statement.

Breaking only for air, Loki felt himself growing closer to that edge. Rather than willing himself to hurry to the end, Loki grabbed his own penis, stopping its grand finale. "A-a-re you?" he managed to breathe.

Thor, still going, shook his head. He was enjoying the whirlwind between them, but his climax was a bit farther off than his lover's. He stroked himself. Loki felt all sorts of titillating pinpricks race up and down his spine. He refrained from giving in for just a moment longer.

"Th - Thor-!" He gasped, desperately clinging to what energy he had left. "I - I lo-!" He gasped, his body coming to a glorious peak. His seed spread throughout the water like a cloud, instantly vanishing into the murky oils.

Thor's hips had yet to stop moving. But he threatened to come at any second. Leaning in, they shared yet another kiss. "I know." Teeth bared, Thor shut his eyes, his whole body stiffening as he pressed himself as far as he could go. Those warm fluids entered Loki's body, settling against his pulsating walls. Thor exhaled, deflating along with his breath.

For a while, the two lay with one another, soaking in the aroma of their love making. It didn't take long, however, for Thor to start showering him with kisses. Kisses that eventually made Loki giggle. Trapped under the weight of this giant man kissing all over his neck and shoulders, Loki eventually had to wriggle out from under him. His body was sore and his back was now a bit knotted, but a smile refused to leave his face. "Thor, you are hardly an eager pup-!"

"Oh but I am!" Wrapping his big arms around Loki, he brought him in close. Playfully, he nuzzled his nose into Loki's cheek, making sniffing noises. "Feel blessed, my little giant, for I am a loyal dog!"

"Ah ha ha! Stop this!" Loki half-heartedly tried to squirm away, but Thor kept him there. "Mind yourself, _dog_ , else this viper will leave a mighty sting!"

"How now? A viper is it?" Grinning, Thor brought him in close despite his writhing and nibbled at his collarbone. "Nay. It appears I have a drowned cat in my presence! Come, let me play with your tail-!"

Laughter filled the bath houses for some time after that.


	11. Caravans and Canvasas

The migration to the festival grounds was something the likes of which Loki had never seen before. It seemed as though every Asgardian had left the city at once. The journey began early that morning, the slow funnel of people sifting out like honey through the front gates, lead by the king himself. Thor, rather than join his father in the front, stayed near the middle, barking orders at the men tasked with livestock, food and other wares needed for the celebration. Things like "Keep that cattle in line!" and "Mind that wheel barrel!" left his lips constantly. Loki rode along side him, having even been given a horse to do so. He kept himself occupied by watching the sea of swaying heads both before and behind them. As they wound between the hillsides of the Asgardian outlands, he craned his neck to try and see either end of the caravan. It was in vain. Even if he was not faced with hoards of men, women and children, the tents alone were like a thicket of trees, blocking his path. Canvases of all colors bobbed up and down, like logs in a current. He could only imagine what they looked like settled. But the real sight to be held was his companion and lover, the Prince of Asgard. For the trek, both men had dressed comfortably, though behind them was carried a trunk full of costumes to be worn for the event. Loki had yet to see Thor in his family's armor. Yet even without it on, never had there been a man with such a presence. His hair was loose beneath his top braid, its golden sheen rivaling the sunlight. His cowl, loose around his broad shoulders, flittered in the breeze. It wasn't long before he caught Loki's stare.

"What?" he asked. "Something on your mind?"

Loki felt a slight thrill of embarrassment but quickly shrugged it off. He was becoming less timid by the day. He had Thor to blame for this. "Just wondering what the days hold in store for us," he said. "Or for you, to that end. Are you to compete this year?"

"Oh yes," Thor replied with a smile. "When I was a boy, there were few events I could really compete in. During wartime, there were those rare years when I could return home to partake. But with this year being such cause for celebration, I plan on doing all I can. Strength, wrestling, agility, speed... Never swordplay though."

"Oh?" Loki inquired. "Why not?"

"I was never good with a blade. It was always too light in my hand. I had no control over it. But my hammer..." He smirked. "That was different."

"Will we see the great Miojlnir this day?"

"Perhaps. If anything, I mean to use it as part of my mantle. Apparently it's grown rather famous."

"Well you _did_ use it to lead you into battle, did you not?" Loki turned frontwards, watching the pilgrimage of Asgardians with mild interest. "A weapon with such a history is a character in itself."

"Yes..." Thor went oddly quiet then. In a way where Loki noticed immediately. He tilted his head a bit, eyes once more on his prince.

"Have I said something amiss?"

"No, no... Not at all." Thor had his smile return. "You've just got me thinking." Loki did not seem convinced. So, Thor put on an air of pomp and pushed his chest out. "I _would_ sign up for every event, of course, but then I don't think it'd be fair, do you? After all, there must be _some_ kind of chance for others to win."

That had Loki grinning. "Mind your ego, O Humble One. It may get you killed some day."

"Will it now? Hasn't yet." Pulling his horse closer, he lightly tugged on the tips of Loki's hair. "In fact, I'd say it's worked in my _favor_ up till now."

Loki pushed Thor away, but did so with a laugh. "Enough, buffoon! You'll knock us off our saddles!"

Thor did no such thing, of course, but did little to curb their closeness. Instead, he went in closer, pestering Loki until his chuckle became booming, inescapable laughter.

Far ahead, a gaze was laid upon the two lovers. A gaze which did not seem favorable in the slightest. Odin, having paused in his leadership of the moving caravan, stared deep into the crowd, spotting his son far off in the distance. He stood aside, his horse steady beneath him as his citizens passed. They were little more than passing noise. He had no attention to spare. So many emotions crossed his face. Worry. Anger. Doubt. Distress. He wondered if what he was feeling was rooted in true skepticism or his own history. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Your Majesty?"

The voice of Lady Sif brought him to reality. He turned, watching her approach, her own white horse trotting with the grace she often held in battle. Odin gave his son one last glance before turning. He and his general continued down the path. "Is there something troubling you, Sire?"

Odin gave thought to such a question. Sif was a good soldier. A great one, in fact. Intelligent, strong. Odin wondered if her judgement could clear up his dilemma. "Tell me. Have you any contact with the Jotun?"

Sif blinked. "Loki...? I have, My Liege."

"What do you think of him?"

She pondered the question. "At first, I did not trust him. Nor was he in my favor in any sense. But then he and I had words. Not long ago, in fact."

"And has this changed your view?"

"Yes," she said truthfully. "When we spoke, he was sincere. Loki is a man of great pretense, but I can tell when such a disguise has been dropped."

"Praytell, what was it you spoke of?"

"Mostly?" she asked. "Thor."

A little bit of Odin twisted inside when he heard such an answer. "What specifically, dare I ask?"

"Nothing criminal, if you are worried, Highness. We spoke of his history. Of our history."

Beneath him, Odin's horse let out a whinny, its ears flickering as though weighing in on the conversation. "Your history... I suppose you do have quite an impressive one." He paused, a thought in his mind. "Tell me, Sif. When you and Thor shared a bed, did he ever entertain the idea of marriage? Did either of you?"

Sif's eyes widened, a handsome color on her cheeks. "Marriage, Your Majesty? I... what, to _me?_ "

"Is it such a silly notion?"

"Silly-? No, no, of course not, Sire! It's just..." She looked away slightly, fidgeting with the reigns of her horse. "Why do you ask?"

"My son is given to flights of fancy. You know this as well as I. Yet I cannot help but think that your courtship was one of his wiser moves." Sif said nothing. "You are a more than capable warrior. As is Thor. Your children would be strong. Your lineage all the stronger. Do you mean to say this was never once considered between you both?"

Sif hesitated. "Forgive me for saying," she began slowly, "it's just... I do not think Thor is the marrying type."

Odin sighed heavily. "That is what I was afraid of..."

Worried that she had upset her king, Sif edged in a bit. "It is not so terrible, Majesty. Your own grandfather was a chosen successor to King Fenir, was he not? I believe Thor will do the same when he is ready to pass the crown."

"Mm. But to whom? That is the real question." Odin glanced behind his shoulder. There they were, off in the distance. By now, their horses were close enough for the two to lock hands, though Odin could not tell if that was what they were doing. That sharp, stabbing pain came back to him and he removed his eye. Would this attachment to his Jotun servant be a permanent one? Or would he eventually let him fall away, as he'd done with so many others? Secretly, Odin hoped for the latter, no matter how selfish it was of him to say so.

With that painful thought in the back of his mind, Odin focused on the road ahead. There was no more discussion after that.

It took the better part of the day to reach their destination. Around a knoll and up a hill, Loki finally laid eyes on the faire grounds. He felt a sort of breathless wonder as he observed the place. It was flat, which was an odd thing for such a stretch of land. Its plant-life was like the fur of a slumbering beast. Sleek, seamless, and beautiful. Mostly, the field was covered by giant blades of grass, stretching and dancing in the wind. There were spots of dirt and baldness, or at least of shorter growth. Evidence that this land had been used before. Already there were travelers from the east woods arriving with their own tents. Loki could see little detail, other than the gray fabric of the moorlands. He had always heard how the people of Vanaheim were a mundane folk. Watered down with the gray and brown pallet of their homeland. After having so many rumors of Asgardian people debunked, he wondered if such accusations held any water. He supposed he'd find out.

His and Thor's horses trotted their way down to a closer plot of land. Those carting their belongings followed closely behind. There, in the light of the late afternoon, Thor helped his servants set up the tent that he and Loki would be using for the festival. It was a grand thing, and took at least five men to prepare it. Loki had no real experience with such work, and watched from the side as the red and gold walls were propped up by pillars of wood and yards of rope. It soon stood as a burning comet against the blue sky above. 

Once it was up, it was quickly furnished. Trunks of their possessions were placed in the corners. Rugs and furs were laid along the floors, providing a kinder floor than the one it was previously on. A bed of plush pillows also made up one side of the room. The tent's "windows" comprised of sheen silks, lighting the area with soft, glowing sun. It was an hour before the tent was deemed finished and the two were allowed inside.

With the cloth door closing behind them, Thor slipped off his boots and cloak, sighing as he flopped onto the pillows. It had been a stressful time for the man. Now, all he had to do now was relax and enjoy his festival. Smiling, Loki made himself comfortable on Thor's lap, hands snaking their way along his chest.

"And now we rest," he purred. The festivities did not start until that morning. There was plenty of time to catch their breath after such a ride. Thor smiled, allowing Loki to bend down and capture a kiss. However, when Loki tried to take it further, a hand gently pushed him away. Confused, he looked down to his mountainous lover for an explanation. 

"Something I neglected to tell you," he began. "My father knows of us." Loki felt his heart drop. Seeing the worry on his face, Thor sat up, arms encasing the Jotun securely. "Calm, Loki. There is no need for fear. He knows of all my lovers, and is not quick to judge you guilty for your skin." Surprisingly, this did little to ease his tension, but Thor continued. "When we spoke of plans for the festival, our relations were brought into conversation."

"What of them?" Loki asked carefully.

Thor sighed, hands on his lower back. "You must understand. I see you as my friend and my love. But the world has not healed so quickly from such a bloodbath. There are others who are still wounded from the war. It was my father's suggestion that, during the festival, we are kept at a respectable distance in sight of others."

A pang of pain hit Loki's chest almost immediately. It was not because of the suggestion to be modest - Loki had no qualms with that. It was, rather, the idea that Thor would not object to it. Thor, who spoke so easily of subjects like sex and intimacy, now prompted them to hide their partnership from prying eyes. This did not sit well with Loki. It showed all over his face.

"So you are to hide me," he said sharply.

"No," Thor corrected. "We are to remain as our titles suggest. You will be my servant this festival. And when it is over, we will return to our daily lives." This only made Loki's mood worsen. "Do not look so put off, my love! It is only for a few days. And it does not mean we are to remain abstinent. There will be no eyes within these walls."

Loki's arms fell from Thor's shoulders, his back a little straighter. "I see. Well how fortunate we have walls to protect us." Standing, Loki turned and walked to one of the trunks. Needing something to do with his hands, he began to unpack its contents. Thor sighed, still sitting among the pillows. He leaned back on his elbow, watching him with unyielding eyes.

"You are being crass, my little giant."

"Am I? And here I thought I was simply unpacking. What crassness is there to that?"

Standing quietly, Thor found his way behind Loki. Those big arms wrapped around Loki's waist, his lips settling on his shoulder. "This is the burden of royalty. Surely you can sympathize...?" He turned Loki, fitting him so easily in his arms. "This is not of my doing, but of my father's request. Something I cannot deny him. Any more than you could deny yours." Lifting his hand, he kissed Loki's knuckles. "Trust me. If I could, I would have you for all the world to see."

Loki's face burned. Clearly, there was still some shyness left within him. "What, so you may have me like some common whore-!" 

"So that I may show the world what gives me such joy in my life." The more Loki became flustered, the wider Thor's smile grew. "Trust me. I am not interested in hiding you behind these curtains." The back of his fingers gently pet down Loki's neck, eyes trailing them. "You are art to me. If the world was just, every eye in it could see what I do. Proud and on display." 

Loki felt his anger dwindling, yet he refrained from his smile, in spite of his desperate want to do so. Oh Thor. What man other than a fool could say such words so seriously? Loki gave into the sincerity of those words, and pushed his face into Thor's shoulder. Thor held him there, kissing between his horns. 

"You are a terrible man," Loki muffled.

"Why?" Thor asked. "Because I speak honestly?"

Loki felt such unnatural happiness at these words. Arms tightly tucked under his chin, he pressed even further into Thor's body. "Yes," he grumbled. "It is a fool who speaks so..."

"Then I fear you are in love with a fool." Loki smiled into Thor's chest.

"And what a pair of them we make."


	12. Pleasure Faire

The morning sun rose, not to the crow of a cock, but the hustle of thousands upon thousands of feet, eager to start the day. Music had already begun to fill the air, the smells of freshly made food accompanying it. Before he was fully awake, Loki could embrace the sensations of the festival. Opening his eyes, Thor was already up and dressing. His eyes gleamed as he threw a tunic on over his shoulders. Turning to see Loki rise, he eagerly rushed to his side. "Hurry!" he goaded. "The competitions will not start until later in the day. Until then, we must enjoy ourselves!"

"Doing what?" Loki inquired. Thor only tossed a tunic his way.

"Anything we'd like!"

Just like that, Loki was pushed around the tent, urged to brush, wash, dress with great hurry. Thor was as boisterous as a child, skipping with every step. When they finally walked into the sunlight, Loki understood why.

There was no real way to describe the feeling that hit him then. Oh there were words for the mass number of tent tops, a rainbow of flags fluttering in the wind. Any poet could piece together the jolly tune of laughter that came from every light heart present. Songs could be written about the way women danced, the way men clapped and sang along. But nothing - _nothing_ \- could describe the feeling of it all. Surrounding him on all sides was a sense of joy that Loki had never had before. Upon every face was a smile; every pair of lips readied a laugh. Children, some half dressed, ran through mud and grass, their paper toys fluttering in the wind. Young lovers split sweet apples between them, and old salts swapped stories over gambling games and tankards of ale. Women cooed and squabbled in the most delightful ways, some of the less mature ones off to run with the boys. It was beautiful chaos.

Thor lead Loki near the center of the encampment, and it was there that Loki saw the most curious thing. A pole, standing a good twenty feet above them, was the main attraction. Ribbons draped themselves down from the top, and dancers held them aloft, spinning around in two opposite circles. As they jumped with the music, the ribbons twisted and turned around the pole, creating a beautiful braid of all colors Loki could imagine. One of the younger dancers, seeing the princes approach, lit up with delight and waved at her friends. Two of the little girls ran up to Thor, who embraced the children like a brother would. Without a second thought, they were each handed a ribbon end, and the song began a new.

Realizing what this meant, Loki immediately tried to give his up. Thor would not hear of it. Linking their arms together, he practically dragged Loki into one of the circles, his red ribbon held high above his head. While Loki was pressed into one circle, Thor was in the opposite, and the dancers began again. Loki, rather nervous about the whole idea, simply walked with the others. This did not go on for much longer. A pretty girl, no older than fourteen, took his arm and instructed him to dance. When he tried to decline, she simply danced along with him. Every time they passed one another, Thor had the most superb laugh to spare them.

When the pole was finished, Loki hoped he could have a moment to relax and settle. But Thor was too excited, and off they went again. This time, they made their way to the food. Thor, of course, ordered for himself a fine sized drink, and urged Loki to do the same. He passed on the meed, but instead settled on a hot cider. Between them they split a leg of lamb, diving deeper into the fair.

"Well now... This is a sight." As was her habit, it was the voice of Sif who broke their attentions away from the festivities. At that moment, Thor had devoured almost half of their leg of lamb, the meat stuffed into his cheeks. Sif laughed, hands on her hips as Thor swallowed it with a mighty gulp. "Mind your stomach, dear friend. We don't want you slow today."

Thor grinned. "Have you ever known me to be _slow_?" Thor teased. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and turned to Loki, who had a pleasant expression on his face. Ever since their chat, Loki felt rather at ease around the woman. "Besides, I will have the cheering of others to guide my feet. Will I not?"

"Hm? And what others would those be?" Loki's jab was enough for Thor to elbow him lightly, his smile bright. Sif watched the two, her own shrinking just slightly. 

"Who indeed..." She glanced between them both before clearing her throat. "I was actually wondering if I could have a word." Her eyes focused on Thor. "It won't be long."

Thor and Loki exchanged glances. Despite his new grounds with Sif, Loki did not like the idea of chatting behind his back. "Surely something so important can be shared-?"

"It shouldn't take but a second," Thor assured him. "I'll be along."

Loki pouted, his mood considerably dampened. Yet he didn't have much room or reason to argue. With one last look, Loki decided to busy himself with a juggler a few yards off. However, this would not exclude him from the conversation. Spotting a crow resting on a tent top, Loki wiggled his fingers, and without trouble, the black bird leapt from its spot, flying to a tent pole just a few feet from where Thor and Sif stood. There, as it perched, its ears became Loki's to use.

"It's your father," Sif was saying. "Forgive me, I couldn't come to you sooner. But... he was acting odd this morning."

"Odd? How so?"

"He was asking me questions along the road. About you - us."

"Why is this cause for suspicion?"

"Well he's never asked before. Besides that, his inquiries were... strange." Sif paused, wondering how she should phrase it. Better just come out with it. "He asked if you had ever considered marriage. To me."

Loki stiffened considerably, his back turned to the two. He could only judge Thor's expression from the surprise in his voice.

"Marriage? I can't say it has ever crossed my thoughts. Has it yours?"

"I never pictured myself wed," Sif admitted. "I decided early on a husband would only slow me. Still, such a subject has never come up with him before. This is why I've come to you. Has his health been fair these past years?"

"His health is fine. I cannot say the same for his heart. My mother's death still haunts him." 

"As does us all."

"Yes, but you must remember that Odin lost more than a queen. There has never been another he loved as much as Frigga. Not even myself..." There was a heavy pause between them. "Perhaps it is Loki."

"What does the Jotun have to do with it?"

"My father instructed that he and I remain at an arm's length during the festival. A request I cannot deny. When he spoke of it, he did so at first claiming it would be best for the Realms still recovering from the war. But perhaps it is more than that..."

"But why would Odin be so put off by your servant?"

"Ah. Well erm..." A nervous chuckle left Thor's throat. "How shall I put this...?"

"Dear gods - you are _bedding_ him-!?"

"Mind your voice, please."

"No wonder the King is so distraught! Thor, his father's men had your mother killed!" The urgency in Sif's voice made Loki's brow furrow. He knew that there were those who held a distaste for him, and had come to terms with this. But for some reason, Sif's words struck him harder than the subject had before. In fact, he was rather tempted to march over and interrupt this little chat. However, what Thor said after kept him still.

"His father's men. Not he. Loki is not even a solider. He did not fight against our brethren in the war. I doubt if the man has drawn blood." 

"You speak as though he is innocent!" 

"He  _is_ innocent! He is the son of Laufey, yet do you see him with a blade in his hand? Do you blame a child for the murders of their father? Why is Loki any different?" 

"Thor..."

"Loki is my companion because he is deserving of that title, Sif. Because he is deserving of love just the same as you or I."

"You're saying you love him?"

"Beyond a doubt."

Nothing in the world prepared him to hear that. The word "love" had been used between them plenty of times. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Thor was a man who wore his heart for all to see. But to hear him so valiantly defend Loki, to bolster their affections without apology... That was something that made Loki rather light headed. No one, in his entire life, had ever done such a thing for him. All his former lovers were only so in the sense of physical pleasure. He grew up without knowledge of a mother's love, or the compassion of his brothers or father. What little friends he made would only be so should it suit their interests. Loki did not know what it meant to be loved unconditionally. 

Looks like he did now.

He was so distracted he didn't even notice that Thor had approached him. His enchanted raven had flown away by then, and Sif had gone on her own path. Quickly, Loki tried to make as though he had not heard their conversation. "Ah, back already?" he said. His eyes shifted away, hands cupped together. "I was just watching the ah-" His words died down. The juggler had moved on some time ago. Thor cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. Loki cleared his throat. "So, what did Sif want?"

"Nothing of importance," Thor explained. "Mm... what is the time?" He turned to the sky expectantly. A great smile fell over his pearly white teeth. "Ah-! Is it so close to noon time? Come, Loki! We mustn't miss the _real_ fun!"

They found their way back to the tent (after getting lost countless times) and Thor hurried them to their trunks. As he explained, there would be a grand opening ceremony that he must be present for. After which, the games would begin. Today were the challenges of strength and muster. The next, agility and skill. After that, challenges of the arts - dancing, singing, and so on. Thor usually used such a day to sleep off the previous two. Between the sport and the drink, he needed a day of rest.

Standing in front of the mirror, Thor dawned his family's armor. A chest plate and silver chainmail running down his stately arms. On his shoulders sat two wide guards, from which spouted a gorgeous red cloak. The final touch was his helm - a silver head piece with two  wings on either side of his temples. The man looked beyond regal. He was practically god like.

Turning to his companion, he held out his arms, ready to ask his lover's opinion. His quandary, however, never made it past his lips. For he was far too fascinated with Loki to speak.

The Jotun had on the gold decorations he wore the day the two met. Chains draped along his horns and down to golden wraps that tied into his raven hair. Wrist and ankle bands of the same material sat gleaming in the opaque sunlight. A sheer, beautiful outfit of green silks were draped from his shoulders, to his waist, and down to his feet, which were bare. His fingertips toyed with the golden collar around the bottom of his long, slender neck. Seeing Thor's gaze on him, Loki turned and smirked, his hips moving just so. Posed so coyly, Loki looked like a painting come to life. 

"You look dashing," he complimented. Thor said nothing, and in fact seemed incapable of words at all. Loki laughed, sauntering his way up to Thor's front. Those arms wrapped around his thick neck, breaking Thor out of his trance. The two smiling, they shared a long, languid kiss. Thor sighed through his nose, keeping his face close even once it was finished.

"You put the nymphs to shame," he purred. Grinning, he nibbled at Loki's lips. "Why do you not wear this all the time?" As he spoke, he ran his hand up Loki's thigh, pushing away those drooping fabrics.

Loki let out a chuckle. "And if I did? You'd get nothing done, you know this."

"Oh, I'd say we'd manage to do _plenty_ , my little giant..."

They shared a few more kisses, Loki letting his hands feel the hard surfaces of Thor's armor. Even though it took him a good ten minutes to put it all on, Loki figured it wouldn't take but half that time to tare it off...

"Your Highness!" came a voice. "The ceremony is about to begin! Your presence is requested."

Ah. Right. The festival. Loki sneered at the sillhuette of the man outside their door. "Pretend you're away," he hissed.

Thor gave him a swift kiss before pulling from his arms. "We shall be there presently." Once the man was gone, Thor turned to the last item of his regula. Mjolnir, settled atop his trunk, sat in waiting. This was the first time since the final battle that it had been taken from its frame. Watching Thor lift it with great ease, Loki doubted he could do the same, under any circumstances. Yet he handled the hammer as if it was an extension of himself. There was a beauty in that.

With the hammer at hand, Thor left the tent, with Loki in tow. Loki wanted so badly to walk at Thor's side, but he knew he must remain behind. As per Odin's insistence, Loki would be his servant, nothing more. In a way, Thor's conversation with Sif earlier eased his anger about the whole thing. Perhaps it was enough to know that Thor loved him "beyond a doubt." Still, Loki walked a bit closer than most servants would have. If only that blasted cape was not there. Loki could have at least _admired_ his view if that were the case. Oh well.

As they walked, Loki noticed something interesting. Earlier that morning, he and Thor had blended in with the crowd like anyone else. Now that Thor was clearly a man of power, the crowds partied like clouds for the man. Most near him bowed in respect. Children were kept at a polite distance, their little eyes wide in marvel over the prince's impressive stature. Young, pretty girls with their apple cheeks and sweet smiles flittered about the crowd, making eyes at the noble warrior. Loki felt a pang of jealousy, particularly when Thor smiled back at their fluttering eyelashes. And yet, Loki felt a bit of stubborn pride. Let these girls giggle as much as they wanted. When it came down to it, it was Loki who occupied his bedside.

With that thought in mind, the Jotun made a mental note to rip Thor's armor from him the next chance he got.

Eventually, they got to the open field where the events would take place. Flags had been placed around the outer rim to keep onlookers from accidentally stepping into the line of fire. All around, people were already milling about. All around him there was a buzz of anticipation. Loki lifted himself just a bit to get a better view of the set up. The field was enormous and the crowds endless. Off to one side sat open sided tents for onlookers of higher stature. Thor immediately spotted his father, who was speaking to a few of his advisers. Beyond that, an area for appending competitors to wait and relax. Quite a few familiar faces were already there, including Thor's friends. Not just Asgardians. Warriors of Vanaheim, the fiery men of Muspelheim, and the elves of Alfheim and Svartalfheim, all sporting the colorful armor of their homeland and families. Seeing Thor approach, the bright eyes of Fandral were the first to spot him.

"And now the games can truly begin!" He stepped forward, a mantle of golden silk on his shoulders. On his belt was the finest rapier Loki had ever seen. With a laugh, the two clasped together in an embrace. "Will we see your mighty hammer today, my friend?"

"It would not be Fertilitet without it, Fandral." They laughed together. "And what of you? I thought sword play was not until the morrow?"

"It is, it is. I came as a mere token of good luck."

"Ha!" The booming voice of Volstagg entered the conversation. "If you are to go up against Hogun this year, I dare say it's _you_ who'll be needing the luck, Fandral!"

"Phah! So he bested me one year - "

"Three times."

"Yes, yes, three times. But am I not the best blade Asgard has to offer?"

"You are not." Sif, in her own set of armor, a shield resting on her left arm, came forward. Her smile was infectious, but Loki's face curdled. "That would be me, I believe."

The friends continued their banter, Loki staying uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe he was simply taking this servant situation in stride? Or maybe he was just pleased to see Thor so happy he didn't want to ruin it. Indeed, the fellow had a glow about him rivaling a golden sunrise. Who was Loki to try and distract him from his delights? Unfortunately, this attempt at good will was trounced upon the minute Volstagg realized he was there.

"So." The big man twitched his beard, hands resting on the top of his large axe. "I've see you've taught your servant to hold his tongue. Good. Here I thought you'd forgotten how to train a dog."

Loki felt a poisonous anger seep through him, though he remained calm. Thor gave his friend a warning glance, but Loki spoke before he could. "Volstagg... correct?" The warrior said nothing. "Thor tells me that you are one of his Lieutenants."

"Aye," he said stiffly.

"I hear you take orders well, Lord Volstagg."

"Of course."

"Well then, I'm sure that I am nothing compared to what was needed in housebreaking you."

The man flared, but surprisingly, the others burst into laughter. Of all the reactions he thought he'd get, that was not one of them. Neither, it seemed, did Volstagg.

"Oh you find that funny, do ye?!" he barked at Fandral, who wiped a tear from his eye.

"Ahh... Volstagg, my dear, dear friend, my love for you is boundless! And it is with the best of intentions that I say there's still quite a bit of housebreaking needed for you!"

Volstagg, his cheeks puffed out and pink, had no reply to such a thing, and instead suffered the laughter of his friends, who in turn lessened his irritation at it all. Before long, the entire group was once again lighthearted and gay. Strangely enough, Loki included. But finally, Thor excused himself from the gaggle of warriors, wishing them all the best of luck in the games. For he was needed elsewhere. Turning, he lead Loki out of the competitors hold and over to where their tent sat in waiting. A chair was set up for Thor to sit, as well as a bowl of fruit and decanter of wine with a festive goblet for the occasion. Thor drank deeply and turned to Loki, wiping his mouth on his wrist.

"Right. My father is to open the games with a speech, and I at his side. After that, I'll be joining the others. You will remain here. Relax, enjoy yourself."

Loki felt a smile crawl on his lips. "And when you return from your sport, should I fetch you a cloth and fresh water?"

Thor grinned, popping a grape in his mouth. "So long as I have someone to wipe me clean."

Loki wanted to give Thor a kiss for good luck, but refrained. Instead, he gave him the smallest nod of knowing. After which, Thor left him beneath the awning to join his father's side. Loki looked at the empty chair. Taking an apple from the fruit bowl, Loki took a seat on its cushion, helping himself to a bite of the apple. One of the servants stared with a shocked expression.

"That is for the prince-!" 

"And now it is for me," Loki said plainly. He cast his red eyes to where the aghast man stood. "Did you not hear? The _prince_ told me to relax and enjoy myself." Grinning now, Loki turned, propping his bare feet up on one of the chair's armrests. "And who am I to ignore a direct order from my beloved master?" By now, the servant was white faced. Loki almost felt bad for the boy. But not bad enough to apologize. Instead, he helped himself to the fruit and wine, eyes focused on the pitch.

Odin and Thor had walked out into the field to the sound of uproarious applause. While Odin stood nobly for all to see, Thor waved at the crowd, his hammer held high. The wind was brushing his cape aside, giving Loki the view he was lacking earlier. And what a view it was.

"Friends!" The voice of Odin cracked through the crowd, and all went silent. "Brothers! Sisters! I welcome you to the Festival Fertilitet! For this year, we celebrate not just the rebirth of life and springtime, but the rebirth of unity! Of peace! For it was less than a year ago our worlds were torn by war! By savagery! By blood and by fear! And it is with this knowledge in mind that we recognize this happy day for its true meaning. The nine kingdoms are once more at peace!" A great applause followed the statement. Odin held out his hand for silence. "This day, on the first day of our festival of life, we recognize the mortality of our fellow man! A single life is fleeting. Never have we been more aware of this truth. But in this truth, we have found another. That while a single life is over far too quickly, it is the memory of that life, by those that life has touched, that live on! While so many of us have known loss... The loss of a loved one. Of a brother. A sister. Mother, father, or child. On this day of rebirth, we hold those fallen in the sake of duty closest, and through our memories, give them a second life!" Another round of applause followed. "And so... with a great many thanks to those friends in arms who made this day possible, let the games begin!"

The crowd exploded into cheers, flags waving in the wind. Thor split off from his father, making his way back over to where the competitors waited. The first challenge would be one of strength. A pair of elves stepped onto the field. By the look of their robes, Loki guessed that they were warlocks. And he guessed right. With their palms upturned, the two spell casters created a creature from the earth. A giant thing, rivaling the size of most Jotuns Loki knew. Comprised of dirt and rocks, it held together by the magic of the elves that puppeteered it.

 Sitting right ways in his seat, Loki watched with interest as Volstagg trotted his way out as the first challenger. Loki's eyes widened. "Boy." He turned to the servant standing beside him. He looked rather put off by Loki's attitude still, but stepped forward. "What is the goal of this game?"

"This...? Have you never attended a festival like this before?" Loki gave him a glare, but the boy continued. "This is the first game. A challenge of strength. Any warrior brave enough to approach must defeat the giant."

That's what he was afraid of. His heart sinking, he watched as Volstagg grabbed a large, two handed axe from the armorers. "Tell me something." Loki's fingers drummed along his leg. "Have... have people died from these games?"

"Not recently."

"Oh. Not recently. Wonderful."

Standing before the massive magical giant, Volstagg rolled his axe between his hands. A grin sat in his scraggly beard. A hush fell over the crowd and Loki leaned forward, waiting to see what monstrous things those elves would make their puppet do. With his heels dug into the ground, Volstagg let out a mighty yell and ran headlong into the thing. The dirt giant, twice the size of Volstagg, braced itself, and the two collided in a puff of smoke. Loki could barely make out the details, and could only catch bits and glints of Volstagg's swift axe. It didn't take long, however, for the proud warrior to be smacked clear across the field. The entire crowd cringed at the sight of the Lieutenant skidding into the dirt, facing the sky. Loki wondered if Volstagg would get up and try again, but he didn't seem keen on the idea of moving at all.

After Volstagg was escorted off the field, a second warrior approached. A dark elf, a head taller than Volstagg, with muscles far exceeding the Asgardian's. But alas, he was dealt with much the same way as the previous challenger. As was the next. And the next, and the next and the next. Each and every one ended the same - with some poor man or woman face down in the dirt.

Finally, it was Thor's turn.

Loki, up until this point, rather enjoyed seeing some of these cocky apes get cut down to size. In fact, some of the defeats were quite funny, and left the Jotun with a laugh on his lips (as it did a majority of the crowd). But when he saw that winged helmet enter the field, Loki dropped his good mood and sat up a bit straighter. Now Thor was no measly squire. Loki knew this intimately. But seeing men and women - some far bigger than Thor - get taken down like flies did not bode well for Thor's chances. Loki gnawed at his thumb nail, watching as Thor raised his hand, accepting the crowd's great applause at his presence.

"Are you worried for Thor... sir?"

The servant boy leaned down a bit, surprised at Loki's concern. Loki glared, but said nothing of it. Instead, he sat stiffer, and took to clawing lightly at the ends of the chair's armrests. "I wouldn't be, if I may say so. The prince has an outstanding record of late. Besides, the man is a living legend." The boy said this with a sense of admiration. Admiration that did not go unnoticed by Loki. Watching the elves re-assemble their rock puppet, Loki motioned the boy in closer.

"A legend... Yes, I daresay that's true. What legends have you heard of him? Hm?"

"What legends? Well... He lead the Asgardians to victory against the um... mm..." The boy cleared his throat. "In the war. And his hammer is one of the finest in the land."

"Oh yes, I agree," Loki purred. A slick smile came to his face. "And Mjolnir is impressive, too." It took a full five seconds for the boy to understand the joke. When he did, his entire face went red and he went silent as the grave. In his mind, Loki both applauded and shamed himself for speaking so lewdly. Looks like everything was changing about him these days.

When the earth creature was ready once more, Thor took his place before it. Loki, as well as the surrounding crowds, went absolutely silent. As they watched with baited breath, Thor let his hammer swing at his side, held loosely in his big hand. The creature stood, silently as a mountain, and waited for Thor to move first. He walked, slowly, gauging the obstacles in his way. He did not run in without thought or question, like so many others before him. 

Finally, Thor was ready. Hammer held tighter now, the golden prince stepped in closer. That mighty weapon was beginning to spin in his hand. Thor swung it in a circle, the sheer wind from it kicking up the dirt. The earth creature widened its stance, arms ready to swat Thor away like a bug. Even though they were yards away from each other, Loki could see him smile.

With a leap, Thor flung his hammer upwards, hand still attached, and bounded a good five feet above the ground. Before the creature could react, Thor's hammer had come slamming down into its head. A scuffle soon followed. Thor got quite a few good licks in, but was soon evenly matched. The creature managed to whack Thor into place a few times, nearly sending him off his feet near the end. But Thor was relentless. As he landed his hammer, rubble went flying like water spray, making the air around them cloud up with dirt and dust. Loki had leaned forward in his chair, watching every move that hammer had to offer. And was it a trick of the sunlight, or were there actual _sparks_ flying from his weapon? In fact, the longer Thor fought, Loki almost heard the sound of thunder clasps echoing through the pitch.

"RAGGH!" Thor's voice sounded like a storm itself, and with a heavy swing, his hammer forced its way through the puppet's midsection, knocking out a key boulder in its construction. After that, the rest was soon to fall. Like melting snow, the monster began to disintegrate, falling in clumps of rock. When the final stone fell, the onlookers burst into cheers. Thor was sweating and out of breath, but hardly weary. He raised his hammer high, accepting his victory.

"Ha! Yes! Ah ha!" Loki didn't even hear what was coming out of his own mouth. The moment it was clear Thor had won, Loki jumped from his seat, clapping as loud as he could possibly clap. The old Loki would have been shocked and embarrassed to see himself cheer so foolishly. But that's what Thor did to him. Made him foolish.

With a clear winner chosen, Thor made his way back to his onlooker tent. Loki, still standing, turned and poured the goblet full. Thor didn't even speak before Loki put it in his hand. His eyes were gleaming, his smile inescapable. "Took a bit longer than I expected," he jabbed.

Thor, laughing breathlessly, took the goblet and drank its entire contents in one go. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist before letting it drop to the dirt below. His eyes never left Loki's. "Maybe I'm getting old," he teased.

"My word, I'd say you are," Loki continued. He leaned in as close as he dared, gently plucking a braid from Thor's sweaty forehead and putting it over his shoulder. "Look at this. Gray hairs already. Tsk tsk tsk..."

Thor let out another laugh, fingers itching to draw Loki near him. But for the sake of his father's request, he refrained. However... Turning to the servant who stood awkwardly to the side, he spoke officially. "What other games will be held today?"

"Spears and shield battling, M'Lord."

"Ah... Well I think I can bare to miss that." He returned his gaze to the eager, imploring Loki. "This armor is stifling. Let us return so that my skin may breathe again."

A spark of delight hit Loki's face. Grin curling wider, he actually bowed his head. "As you wish, _master._ "

~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Clank- fw-fwump-!_

The sound of armor hitting the rugs on the floor was like thudded stomps of a giant. With quick fingers, Loki was undoing any and all straps Thor had on his person, allowing him to shed his heavy armor as a snake sheds its skin. All the while, blue lips left sweet spots across Thor's neck, cheeks and lips. Both pairs of hands were relentless. Groping, grabbing, and otherwise pawing at their respective partner. Loki felt the slick surface of Thor's skin, drawing circles with his finger pads. Their kisses were passionate, the steam rising from them enough to make the tent feel stuffy and secluded. The cloth opening was currently tied tight. Odin had suggested that they remain professional when eyes were on them. He said nothing about when no one was looking. Both men were ready to take advantage that fact.

Gasping between kisses, Thor practically shoved Loki over to their pillow bed. The Jotun's legs were wobbly out of excitement, yet he remained upright. Now with an inch of space between them, Loki noticed that a shoulder of his beautiful silk toga had been ripped. Noticing it as well, Thor pounced. Without care for the garment, Thor ripped the clothes from Loki's body, letting him stand in shredded rags. A thrill raced up Loki's spine at the brute force of Thor's actions. As a lover, Thor had been sweet. Kind and gentle and understanding. Now that Loki had found his footing, he no longer wanted his prince charming. He wanted a beast.

Grabbing his thick neck, Loki pulled him in for a kiss, the two collapsing onto their pile of fur and pillows. By now, the sun was starting to set, its final rays rivaled only by the candle light in their tent. It gave the whole room a glow of gold. Thor had been stripped of all but his trousers and boots. Loki was barely in anything at all, belay his gold decorations. First, Thor lay on top of Loki. His big hands gabbed and pulled and sought out the sensitive areas of his body. He found them all. Raising two fingers, he slid them into Loki's mouth. The Jotun sucked, his tongue lathering Thor's digits. For he knew their purpose. Already his thighs began to spread, pulse quickening in anticipation. Smirking at Loki's eagerness, Thor made sure his fingers were properly lathered before letting them go below. Slipping the warm things inside, he watched as Loki's face bloomed with emotion. Thor rolled those fingers about, thumb fiddling with the stretched skin between his manhood and his entrance. Loki moaned against Thor's lips. 

"You treat me so sweetly," he sighed. They shared another bout of kisses, Thor inserting a third finger within him. Loki gasped, eyes closing as his body began to widen. "Mm... I grow tired of sweet."

Thor, entrapping him in one more kiss, bit down on his lower lip. He gradually slid his teeth along that skin, letting it snap back into place. After which, his free hand took a fistful of Loki's hair and pulled. Loki let out the most succulent cry, his chest heaving with breath. Thor watched as shreds of fabric slid past his pert, darkened nipples. Leaning in, Thor gnawed against one of them, suckling until it was excited. When he lifted his head up, Loki saw a fire in his gaze, of which held a promise of things to come.

"Then if you grow tired of sweet," Thor growled, "perhaps we should do as my father suggests." Removing both his hands, Thor sat on his knees, rising above Loki like the bear that he was. He undid the buttons of his trousers, his enormous manhood sliding into view. "Go on then. Show how you please your _master._ "

There was no ego to be wounded in Loki. Hungrily, he licked his lips, crawling his way to that warm, pink penis. Taking it in hand, Loki stroked and licked at it. The salty husk filled his mouth as his lips greedily devoured the meal before him. Thor let out slow, pleasant breaths. His hand, at first, pet back the wild hair on Loki's head. But then, quite suddenly, those hands grabbed the middle of Loki's horns. Still as sensitive as ever, Loki whimpered, Thor still deep in his mouth. He had little time to recover, however, as Thor began bobbing Loki's head up and down on his own. Loki choked, his breath speeding up through his nose. He had no control, and there were times when he feared he would grow unconscious from the lack of air. Yet there was an addiction to be felt by submitting wholly to Thor's will. All that power, all that _strength_.

When Thor finally relented, Loki came up for air, gasping with his mouth wide. Thor gave him only a second to breathe before turning him about face. There, he was forced to his knees and elbows. Thor ripped away the remainder of Loki's clothing, doing the same to himself. Completely nude with the exception of his pale leather gauntlets, Thor groped Loki's hind end. He rubbed and scratched at the supple cheeks of his servant. And Loki held no objection. In fact, Thor could have sworn he was spreading his legs farther apart.

Looking over his shoulder, Loki gave him a seductive smile. "Don't tell me you intend only to look."

Grabbing Loki's horn, he was brought up close, Loki's back flat against Thor's front. Ignoring his whimpering, Thor bit into Loki's neck before whispering: "A _slave_ does not speak unless spoken to." Reaching between Loki's legs, he violently tugged on his manhood. Every breath was a glorious cry of pleasure and pain. His body arched, begging for more.

Once again, Loki was thrown to his hands and knees. Looking around, Thor spotted a small wooden box by his trunk. It was a necessity packed for this specific situation. Inside, a small canister of leaf oil. Originally, it was developed as a way to soothe skin rashes. It wasn't long before certain men of Asgard developed other uses for it. Opening the lid, the golden substance was poured between Loki's cheeks and along his puckering hole. Loki's skin twitched at its cold temperature. Once it was dry, Thor tossed the canister aside. 

"Well?" he asked. Loki lifted his head. Thor grinned. "You may speak."

"Well what?" Loki asked. "... _master_."

"I must be persuaded," he teased. "Show me why I should ease your suffering, my little giant."

Loki bit his lip, smiling behind him. Laying down on his front, those hands fell between his legs. While one stroked, the other wormed its way to his anus. Fingers slid in and out, in tandem with his stroking hand. Loki's face, half of it in the furs below, melted into pleasure. He did not see Thor stroking himself at the sight of it. This went on for only a small time. When Thor saw Loki's veins jump at the promise of a climax, Thor squeezed the base of Loki's cock. Loki let out a squeak, eyes snapping open. All he saw was Thor's smile.

"No, no. Not yet." A hand came down, swatting Loki's right butt cheek. Loki yipped, his body wanting desperately to reach its end. Thor would not allow it. Grabbing Loki's hips, he slid himself inside. Between the oil and the preparation, Loki accepted him without a struggle. Good thing, too. Thor was relentless this day. The slap of their skins echoed against the tent walls, along with Loki's voice. Nothing else mattered, to either of them. Garnished in gold and rode like a dog, Loki laid his front half of his body down along the furs, falling into a void between anguish and ecstasy. Thor's thrusts were rough. They were brutal. His body hounded Loki's, tossing them both into a relentless storm.

Loki swooned. He crowed. He moaned and mewled and drank in air. His mind was hazy, his vision blurred with each powerful sway. Eventually, he was nothing but a mess of flesh for Thor to pleasure. All the while, Thor kept him from coming, fingers occasionally reaching down to clasp on his shaft.

"What a proud prize you are, my Loki." Thor's voice was like the deadly growl of a tiger. He slapped Loki's behind a few more times, watching with amusement as the cheeks rippled every time his hand came down.

Eventually, Loki's want of release was too great. His fingers dug into the fur, face screwing tightly. "Th-Thor-! P-p-please...!"

"Ah, but I have not... reached such heights, my dearest slave." Still, he kept those fingers secure around his cock. "Isn't that... selfish of you? To want to end it before your master is ready?" He gave Loki a particularly hard thrust, making Loki shriek.

" _Please!_ " he begged. "Please let me-!"

"Please _what..._?"

"Please... my master... let me c-come..."

Thor released his hand. The power of Loki's orgasm shocked the both of them, and Thor became stationary, feeling the walls of his body tighten against him. Splashes of white pooled beneath him, dripping from his head like tear drops. The sight was enough to kick Thor into his final moments. It wasn't long before hot gushings filled Loki to the core. Winded and sweating more now than ever, Thor leaned over Loki, arms propped on either side of him like tent poles. Loki, with absolutely no strength left, let himself flop onto his own mess. Thor's mess was spread along his blue skin. Like a cloud on a summer day.

Looking him over, Thor put his smiling lips against Loki's shoulder. "Mm..." His big body enveloped Loki's easily, despite how hot they were. He began to leave kisses against his neck and jaw. "If I knew having a slave would be this fun, I would have left those cuffs on..."

Loki laughed against the fur, one eye lazily opening. "Do _not_ get any ideas." Ever like the lovable pooch he was, Thor leaned in, their noses nuzzling together.

"I fear it's far to late for that, my love." 

 


	13. Clouded

The sound of crashing men was like a break of the ocean. The wet skin slapping in a cloud of sweat and dirt made the most curious sounds, rivaled only by the roar of voices, and the gnashing of teeth. Today was the second day of the festival, and thus the games of skill. Just before the sun struck high, the wrestling tourney took place. Three bouts happened at once, the winners then moving on to face the winners of three other matches and so on and so forth. Typically, such a brutish display left Loki with a horrible taste in his mouth. In the past, he no more likened such a sport to skill as he did dancing to combat. But today he seemed likely to change his mind. Namely because one of the prime challengers was a six foot something, blond Asgardian that Loki had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing. Leaning up against Thor's empty chair, he watched with glee as his bare chested prince ripped through his elven opponent with astounding ease. Every sweet muscle was drenched and perspiring, it's surface glittering in the sunlight. Thor had done at least four rounds thus far, and now competed for a spot in the final bout. He showed no sign of tiring.

The elf he wrestled broke Thor's hold, turning swiftly to knock him away. Even against a mighty blow, Thor held true. His heels in the ground, Thor grappled with the man, their arms intertwining. Loki was prideful to notice that most eyes were drawn to his lover's fight more than the rest. Not that it was hard. Thor's was a power not many could ignore. Loki least of all. They watched as Thor managed to break the elf's footing. A cheer sounded, part of which came from Loki himself. the boy servant, the same as the day before, watched with a careful eye. 

"I... beg your pardon... sir." Loki spared the boy a faint glance. "Ignoring the fact that it is in fact meant for Prince Thor... do you not wish to sit?" 

Ah. Sitting. Not something Loki was looking forward to. Not after last night, in any case. After there little master/slave play, it took very little for his lover to return to his mood. Loki was barely able to sleep, let alone put any pressure on his rear end. Yet he could not begrudge Thor for his actions. In the end, they were mutually beneficial, and worth a bit of standing around. Smiling at what the servant boy would never know, Loki rested his chin on his arm. 

"So eager to have the rules broken, are we?"

The boy's face grew hot. "No, not in the slightest."

Loki clicked his tongue. "Pity. You have so much potential."

Thus ended their conversation. Loki instead turned his attention to where it was needed: admiring the pulsating muscles of his beautiful bedmate. Currently, he and the elf were circling one another. Thor's hair was splayed about his sweaty back, his eyes strong and unwavering. Loki gnawed at his thumbnail, but not out of anxiety. Out of excitement. For in that blithe smile, he knew that Thor would not fall victim. Not after he had had a taste of what true power lay within him. Even though his rump was still sore, Loki played with the idea of sneaking off to their tent again after this little event.

Thor, with his heels digging into the dirt, cracked his neck with ease. His grin was infectious, and unnerved his elvish sparring partner. The man lurched forward to grab the Asgardian prince, but Thor was too quick. In a twist of his body, Thor managed to grapple his arm, turn him about, and send him flying into the dirt. There, Thor restrained him by keeping his arm taut and straight behind his back. The elf struggled, but could not wriggle free of Thor's firm grasp. With a cry, the elf tapped out. Thor relented immediately, applause sounding for the end of their fight. While the other two went on, Thor offered a hand to his defeated challenger. Despite his loss, the elf took it with a smile, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. There, they shook in good sportsmanship, and Thor walked over to the victor's tent. There, he would be given drink and a place to sit while the other two fought their fights. Once they were over with, the three winners would wrestle one another in turn, and so on and so forth, until only one champion remained. Loki watched with gleaming eyes as Thor doused his sweaty body with water. He leaned further on the headrest of the chair, eyeing every droplet of water as if it was a sweetie behind a shop window. 

"Mm... If there is one thing I will say of these Asgardians... Their bloodline is  _impeccable,_ wouldn't you say, boy?" The servant did not answer, but Loki paid no mind. Instead, he continued to talk. "Oh the men of these lands are brutish, certainly. I've seen my fair share of such  _viciousness._ How pleasant that I was not disappointed." Again, the servant boy remained silent. This time, Loki took notice and shifted his eyes to where he stood. He was still there, silent with his head bowed. Loki frowned. "I've been asking you questions, boy. Why, there are horses that are not bred so well, yes?" Again, he was quiet. Finally, the reason why revealed itself. 

"How good it is that you approve of Thor's lineage." 

The voice of Odin was quiet. The man did not yell, nor did he startle Loki. But it was his calm attitude that instilled a sort of fear in Loki. He hadn't had any direct contact with the king since his arrival in Asgard. Where as he had found comfort in Thor, the rumors and legends of his father still clouded the man in all that Loki feared in Asgardians. Slowly, he turned. There he stood, escorted by two of his royal guard. Loki wasn't sure what to do. His face was still, his hands firmly at his sides. Still uncertain of himself, Loki did all he could think of and bowed his head.

"Your Majesty," was all he could manage. 

Odin stood still a moment, observing him. Loki felt as though Judgement Himself was baring down on his soul. As if he could see every imperfection that lay within. Loki stood up straight, trying to keep his face as blank as possible. Odin could see through it. Loki just knew. But Odin did not go straight for Loki. Instead, he turned to his son's bowl of fruit. There, he picked up an apple, running his thumb along the skin. "So," he began slowly. "How are you enjoying your first festival here?" Loki said nothing. "I hear that you have grown fond of Thor's side. How has my son acted as master to you?" Again, silence. Odin looked up from his apple. "I am asking you questions,  _boy._ "

Feeling a sting in those words, Loki finally cleared his throat. "It... it is... fine. All very fine." 

Odin turned back to his apple, nails threatening to break the skin. "All very fine," he repeated. "I'd assume so. With such preferential treatment you've been receiving, it must be. I wonder about that..." Odin did not go into specifics. Loki was afraid to ask for them, but proceeded anyway.

"Does his treatment of me offend you?" He hesitated. "...Sire?" 

Odin placed the apple back into its bowl. "Offend? Yes. I think it does." Loki's whole body tightened. "I know my son better than most. A history of his lovers has been very, very long. I cannot say I agreed with every person brought to his bed then, either." 

Loki fidgeted where he stood. "So then... you know?"

"Of course I know. I am missing only one eye, Jotun, not both." Loki was silent as Odin turned to face him. "Thor has always been an impertinent boy. Fickle. Stubborn. Pigheaded. Every choice he has made has always been for selfish reasons."

"Does your offense come from his treatment of me?" Loki asked, confusion on his face. "I - I know of his past. The Lady Sif told me as much. I know that he used to be prone to greed and vanity but he is different-"

"It is not him who offends me,  _Laufeyson._  It is you."

The air around them got a great deal thicker. Odin bore a hole into Loki's constitution with his glare. Loki didn't know how to react at first. His mouth dry and his heart pumping, he managed to recall his voice. "Have... have I done something to.... to offend you, King Odin?" 

"More than you will know." Odin folded his hands in front of him, his feet firmly placed in the dirt. "Tell me. What do you think of my son? Where has your voice gone, Jotun? You were so vocal about him before. Do you covet him? Fantasize about him? Perhaps there is part of you that believes you love him. You are fooling yourself." Odin's eyes turned to where Thor stood in the victor's tent. "Now, see with unmasked eyes." 

Gut in knots, Loki turned to follow Odin's gaze. There Thor was, cleaning himself of sweat and dirt. He was speaking with a smile to one of the servant girls that brought him water. From so far away, he could almost hear his laugh. Normally, this wouldn't bother him so. Thor was a jolly man. It was not unusual of him to chat with passers by. Now, with the looming words of Odin hovering over his head, Loki could only see his happiness from another person. His talk with Sif came back to haunt him. And with how Loki had just been admiring Thor from a far, it hit him just how easy it must be for Thor to find someone who would be interested in joining him. Why, Thor could have anyone he wanted. The perfect mate by anyone's standards. Why would he waste all of that on someone like Loki?

His spirits thrashed, Loki could not bare the sight and looked away. Rather than leave him to his self doubt, which would have been kinder, Odin continued to speak. "I have heard that he has not taken another to bed for some time. Since your arrival, in fact. Curious that Thor has been so inactive." Loki's throat clenched, but Odin was not through. He stepped forward, forcing Loki to look to him. "Are you trying to control my son, Jotun?"

"Control...?" Loki tried to ignore his aching heart, now confused by Odin's anger. For there was fury behind that eye, the likes of which frightened Loki. But he felt a rise to defend himself. "No," he said firmly. "No, never! Thor, he- I..." 

"Do not lie to me. I know what games men like you play. Thor is trusting. Too trusting. He believes that he may be in love, but I have seen enough to know how far unwanted hands may reach." 

"You think this is about power? About his  _throne?_ " Loki's voice cracked, his breath short and shallow. "No - that has never been the case! My intentions have been nothing but pure!" 

"Purity. Of my experience, this is not a quality most have. Especially not a man like you."

"And what of a man like me?" Loki defended. 

"You were brought here a slave. Taken from your home by the order of your father. More than that, you are the son of our greatest enemy. Forgive me if I do not believe that you have made peace with this fact." Odin drew in closer, his gaze relentless. "Be aware, Loki of Jotunheim. Should anything go awry, I will be watching. I will not allow you to harm my only son."

Though Loki was fearful and distraught, he would not shy away. He stayed firm. "And I will not be dissuaded from the man I love. _You_ will not frighten me from him." 

A pause sat between them. Both men stared one another down, waiting for the other to break. Though Odin had the power to lock Loki away at any moment, maybe even have him killed, he refrained from taking any action. Whether it was because of Thor or his own morality, it was hard to tell. So, nodding at his guardsmen, Odin turned and left Loki to his own devices. Now alone only with the servant boy, Loki felt what was once a wonderful morning slip into a kind of despair he had not felt in some time. Not since he was first carted off to Asgard. 

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice a pair of boots that approached them. It was only a second after that a hand gently caressed Loki's cheek. He turned up to see Thor standing there, his eyes worried. He was clothed by now, but still smelled of dirt and sweat. Loki felt guilty as Thor looked upon him. As if he had wronged the prince in some way.

"I saw Odin here," he said calmly. He did not remark on how Loki looked after such an encounter. Gently, Loki nestled his face into Thor's hand, allowing his comfort. "What did he say to you?" 

Loki was still. Should he say? Should he truly tell Thor what Odin had threatened him with? "It is not important."

"Loki." His chin was turned up just enough. "You swore to me that you would be truthful." 

With his melancholy mounting, Loki closed his eyes. "He is... worried. That is all. He is your father. It can't be helped."

"What did he say to you?"

"Thor." Loki took his wrist with both of his hands. "What I said. Before, I mean. If you..." Loki's words died in his throat. Thor was quiet, allowing him to start again. Unable to keep eye contact, Loki let his head droop. "What I asked of you. It was selfish of me. If there is another you desire, I will not stand in your way. I will not... control you." 

Surprise came to Thor's face. "Control...?" His brow darkened and both hands went to hold Loki's cheeks. "I would not have agreed if I was unwilling to do so, Loki. It was my choice to-"

"To humor me?" Loki finally looked to Thor, an expression of hurt in his eyes. "Well then I release you from my grasp. You may do what you like with whomever you like. I will not stop you." 

Thor's face softened. Not caring that they were in public, Thor let his lips rest on Loki's forehead. The kiss was enough to loosen his anxious muscles. "There is no one who interests me, my little giant." Loki turned upwards, trying to see any hint of a lie. None was there. "Nevermind what my father says. My choice to be with you is mine, and mine alone. Always remember this, my love." 

Ah, Thor. Leave it to him to say the right thing at the right time. And while his compassion left Loki with a familiar sense of love, it did not erase his doubt. Nor his weariness of Odin. But perhaps it was just all misplaced insecurity. It would be selfish of him to drag Thor through his troubles. After all he'd done and endured on Loki's behalf, he could not cause him misery. So, feigning a change in mood, Loki smiled, his arms wrapping around Thor's neck. "Of course," he said. His heart ached at the masked smile he wore. He ignored it. "Then if you truly love me, you must prove it." 

"Anything." 

Forcing his smile brighter, Loki held a finger up between them. "Once you sweep your competition, I demand your attention for the rest of the night. I've eaten nothing proper for hours!" 

That got Thor laughing. Breaking from their embrace, he kissed Loki's knuckles as a proper gentleman would. "Of course. It would suit me ill to let my closest servant starve, after all." With one more kiss to Loki's temple, Thor turned and made his way back to the victor's tent. The farther he went, the lower Loki's lips sank until his smile was completely gone. All the while, the servant boy watched with curiosity. Like a fly on the wall. 

"Forgive me," he began after a bit. "It's just... wouldn't it be easier to tell Prince Thor the truth?" Loki turned to him, his face long and heavy. "My mother always tells me that the key to love is to be open. A closed heart is... a... a cold one... sir..." Losing confidence by the end, the servant boy shied away, holding his hands behind his back. Loki turned away, letting his eyes linger on the golden hair of his lover. 

"Well... it's a good thing I'm used to the cold." 


	14. Terrors

"Uraaaghhhhhh~!"

Thor's yawn of relief was practically dog like the minute he stepped into his chambers. His entire body was well worn and swollen. A few new bruises sat on his skin, a few new scars as well. Despite this, he was content. The festival had lasted three days. Still, even as Asgard's royal family said their farewells, tents remained, many patrons deciding to spend their final hours dancing and drinking the night away. The winners of that year's sport were crowned in victory, and a feast held in their honor. Even Thor was full enough to waddle his way home by the end. Now, after hours and hours of riding, the Asgardian prince felt a sense of utter relief stepping into his own bed chambers. His skin was dusty, his hair was dirty. Dried sweat sat on his brow and his nails were black with earth. He was in great need of a bath, but had no energy to call for one. For this year, he'd had no time to rest.

Normally, Thor would take the third day to rest and relax after hours of merriment. But his usual time spent relaxing was now monopolized by one Loki of Jotunheim. Not to say he didn't enjoy their tent time together. Far from it, in fact, however his lack of any real time resting left him with his body completely used and sore. By the time they reached the palace, it was only sunset. It might as well have been midnight with how tired the prince was. Letting his cloak fall to the floor, Thor dragged his heavy feet to his fur bed. With absolutely no ceremony, he collapsed on top of it, arms splayed on either side of him. His face was buried deep into the fur blanket, everything below the knees hanging off the edge. He murmured into his mattress of goose feathers in bliss, fingers threading through the fur hairs. Oh how he'd missed his lovely bed...

Behind him, Loki chuckled, not bothering with Thor's discarded cloak. "What, no wine tonight?"

"Mrughmuff..."

"And I'm assuming you'll want no supper."

"Uuuuuuughhh..."

Again, Loki laughed. "The world has ended! The ever insatiable Thor of Asgard wants neither food nor drink!" All that came from the man was indecipherable mumbles, making Loki smile. Deciding to be playful, Loki sat himself on the small of Thor's back, arms folded and an ankle resting on his knee. Thor barely registered. "Dear me... And here I thought the Mighty Thor knew no limitations."

Finally, Thor lifted his head, if only to be heard properly. "Even the stomach of an Asgardian knows boundaries, Loki."

"If only the ego knew the same."

"Ha ha. I shall curb my pride if you curb that tongue of yours."

Loki smirked over his shoulder. "I fear then that things would get _dreadfully_ boring in our bedroom debauchery, _oh my master._ "

A deep rumble of laughter came from Thor's chest. His face had returned to the furs, making his head look like one of the many rolling hillsides of Asgard's country. Finally rolling over, he snagged Loki around the middle before he could escape, the two snuggling together like children. "Mm. Well we shan't have that, shall we?"

"Heavens forbid it." Together, they shared a soft, sweet kiss, Loki fiddling with Thor's hair. It was only when they broke apart that Loki noticed Thor's eyes had not opened. His breathing was deeper, and his arms were going limp. Loki snorted, pushing himself upright. "Thor? Don't tell me you are -? At least take off your boots!" Thor only grumbled, as useless as a snoring lion. So, rolling his eyes, Loki undid the fastenings of his foot-ware, letting them fall to the ground. Sitting back up, he swatted Thor's thigh. "Come on, you great cow! Up, scoot to the pillows! I'll not have you rolling off the bed." Thor made a small gesture up, but then went still. Loki clicked his tongue. "Right." His arms latched onto one of Thor's own, and Loki began to hoist the sleeping prince further up the bed. Thor made a little effort to help, but his movement was mostly due to Loki's struggling. Gods above he had no idea just how heavy Thor was! Huffing relentlessly, he finally got Thor's head to touch his feather pillows and let him drop. There Thor flopped, mouth half open and falling quickly into slumber. Loki, having nearly broken a sweat, decided to grab a book from his little mountain by his bedside. As he began to read, he felt the heavy, slow weight of Thor's arm wrapping around his waist. A smile stayed on Loki's face for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was quiet. Quieter than it had been in a while. Through Thor's open window, a light breeze played with the tips of his drapes. The shadows danced along the floor like ocean waves. Each crash was silent along the carpet. And on the bed lay Thor of Asgard, and Loki of Jotunheim. Both sound asleep. They looked as a par of babes would, nestled together beneath the furs that kept the night's chill from biting their bones. By then, Thor had turned onto his back, Loki laying along one of his outstretched arms. The two were still as the earth, the only notable movement being Thor's giant chest, rising and lowering with every deep breath. All seemed at peace this night.

Not for long.

It started with a twitch. Thor's eyelids, having been so still before, began to jump. His breath grew a bit sharper through his nose. Muscles contracted in tiny bursts throughout his arms and fingertips. A small noise escaped his barely parted lips. His leg fidgeted, and still his breathing grew harsher. Those twitches began more frequent, his head tilting back and forth along his pillow. As his mouth finally fell open, a soft cry escaped them. A cry that roused Loki almost instantly.

Blinking awake, Loki saw Thor in a fret and quickly took his shoulder. "Thor-" He tried shaking him awake, but Thor only panicked worse. His breathing was stifling now, fighting to leave his mouth as more noises were heard. His thick brow drew tightly together, jaw grinding. One leg actually began contracting and lowering. As if he was trying to run. Loki began to grow worried. "Thor-! Thor, wake up! You're having a dream! Thor!"

"Ah...hah...!" More noises. Louder, too. Thor's head jerked back and forth, his eyes now squeezed so tight it might've caused the man pain. A thrill of worry shocked Loki, and he sat up fully, shaking Thor as best he could.

"Wake up! _Wake up, Thor!_ "

" **ARGH!** "

It happened in an instant. With eyes snapping open in the dark, Thor's hand reached out and took ahold of Loki's neck. He was thrown down to the mattress, Thor with his fist held high and ready to strike. True fear hit Loki as he laid along the bed, half choked and petrified of Thor's madness. For as he bared his teeth, knuckles white with fury, he looked very much like the beast Loki had first feared him to be.

Then, it all melted away. Reality set in, and Thor went from wrath to horror. First, he removed his hand from Loki's neck, flinging himself away from his lover. Eyes wide, he sat on his nest of furs, staring at Loki and gasping for breath. Loki did the same. Unable to bare the sight any longer, Thor moved quickly to the table by his window where his decanter sat in waiting. He poured himself wine with shaking hands, breath having yet to steady. When it was so full it nearly spilled, Thor drank it all. Wine splattered on the table top and around his feet. Thor kept drinking. When the goblet was empty, Thor gasped, slamming both his hands and the glass down to the top of the table. He leaned over it, back and arms stiff as boards. Loki watched the entire scene with trembling, uncertain eyes. By the time Thor poured himself a second glass of wine, Loki had found his voice.

"You... didn't have your wine... before..." Fool that he was. How had he not seen? Thor had had drink at the feast, but that was hours before they got home. Thor had long reached full sobriety before collapsing into bed. Something Loki had never seen him do before. Whether it was meed or ale or wine or what have you, Thor always accompanied his bed time with a proper drink. Now, he knew why.

"Your dream. It was the war, wasn't it?" It was the only logical explanation. A man who drew blood at the tender age of sixteen? A man who had seen ten years of it? A man who showed almost no signs of damage from such an ordeal? It had to be there. Hidden away like a terrible wound beneath layers upon layers of bright bandages. Thor didn't answer his question, taking a much slower drink of his wine this time. "That's why you..." Loki's fingertips lingered on his clavicle. His neck was still sore from where Thor had squeezed. "You thought I was a soldier."

"Please." Thor's voice was cracked. Defeated. Short. "Forgive me. I never-" How could Thor go on? How could he ask forgiveness for such a terrible thing? What kind lover ran the risk of throttling his partner in the dead of night by accident? A misery Thor had long buried within him crept up through his chest. His throat clogged, and his heart longed to release through tears. He refused. Instead, he clutched his forehead, palms pushing firmly into his eyes to withhold the urge. "This shall never happen again. You have my word."

The shock began to fade away by now. What replaced it was a sadness Loki had not felt before. It was not pity. Not for himself, or even for Thor. It was empathy. While he himself could never understand the damage of a warrior's mind, he could certainly empathize with fear. With unknowing. The appending doom of his life and his sanity. What he felt the day he was sold into slavery by his own home could only have been amplified a hundred times worse on Thor's end. And to have it still haunt him after peace had been declared...

Without a word, Loki stood. He had no need for speeches. What words could mend a man who had been broken in such a way? His bare feet made little noise as he approached. Thor, whether he heard him or not, did not move. Quietly, those blue hands laid themselves on Thor's shoulders. Again, he did nothing, his palms still squished against his eyes. Slowly, Loki managed to turn him around, removing the hands from his now swollen eyes. Thor refused to look at him, staring instead at their feet. Realizing nothing he said could ease Thor's burden, he instead rolled himself into Thor's chest. Trustingly, lovingly, without hesitation. That, among all else, caused Thor's resolve to crack. His chest quivering, it wasn't long before his wall broke. Thor cried against his lover, clinging to him like life itself. His tears were soundless as they squeezed through his thick lashes and down his rough face. Thor didn't whimper, didn't sob. He just... let it happen. There was a peace in that. Loki let him do as he needed, only wiping away what he felt necessary. 

They stood there until an ache forced Thor to return to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki stared at himself.

Or rather, his newself.

For he would never be himself again.

On the table sat a few key things. A chalice, emptied. An open potions book. Empty bowls of ingredients. A pestle and mortar, used and set aside. And in the reflection of the mirror, a face that Loki had never seen before, but will do so for the rest of his days.

After Thor had fallen asleep, Loki found himself restless. He lay abed, tireless and worried. Granted, Asgardians were the enemies of Jotuns across the Nine Realms, but what must it be like to have lived such a strife? What consequences must have befallen the man who killed Jotuns for so long only to find love in one? Thor was a happy man. Smiling and sunny since the moment they met. No one was so resilient to pain. And thus, Loki made a decision. It was brash, yes. Perhaps even unreasonable and maybe a little stupid. But Loki saw the anger in Thor's eyes that night. Saw the frustration and the horror and the humiliation. Loki hoped to never see that look again.

He had found a potions book in his stack of reading material some time ago. One title he had marked for later. Now it seemed to come in handy. After finding what he needed, he went into the royal garden and shuffled about the plant life for a good two hours. By the time he had found all he needed, he was filthy and had his arms full of flowers. After which, he trounced back up to Thor's room and set to work. The sun was rising just as he drank his final drop.

And now he sat there in front of the mirror. His horns were gone. That icy blue skin had paled into a soft peach. Those eyes, once so fiery red, melded away into a clear, pond green. Every trace of Jotun ancestry had been drained away. The face he was staring back at was Asgardian.

In the reflection, Loki saw Thor shift. Loki felt his heart palpitate. Well... Thor was going to see him like this eventually. Might as well be now. Stomach in knots, Loki approached, his hands tightly locked in front of him. He sat down without a word, staring at him. He waited.

Eventually, those sky blue eyes cracked open. Thor looked around, blurry, before landing his gaze on Loki. Immediately he woke, sitting up slightly in alarm. "Loki-?" The Jotun only smiled, his eyes sheepish. Thor looked him up and down. "Y...you are... How-?"

"I found a book of potions last night," he explained. Nervously, he fiddled with the hem of his tunic. "Well... what do you think?" There was a silence. Quickly covering his insecurity, Loki threw his shoulders back, wafting his hair behind him like a regular deity. "I think I make you Asgardians seem sophisticated, if you want my opinion. You brutes are _due_ for a little more culture, wouldn't you agree...?" His facade fell the quieter Thor was. A pink color hit his cheeks. Now frustrated with the lack of response, Loki slammed his hands down on the bed. "Alright, fine, you don't like it. Well you had best begin to, because the potion is irreversible! A-and besides, it isn't as though I changed for _you_ anyway-!"

Loki's words ended immediately. For Thor had moved forward, placing a kiss on his dancing lips. His eyes widened just a bit before falling into that kiss. When they broke, Thor cupped Loki's cheek, his face softened with gratitude.

"You are beautiful, my little giant." And with that, the two fell back into bed, letting the warmth of the morning soothe their anxiety. 


	15. Mother

It had been a while since Loki felt the urge to murder everyone in his line of sight. Unfortunately, that feeling had returned to him tenfold after he and Thor stepped out into the morning light of the palace to meet with Thor's friends.It was the first day after Loki's transformation. To be honest, he didn't exactly feel different. His head was a bit lighter, and he constantly touched his arms, feeling the lack of etchings within his skin. Other than that, nothing about him felt changed. And thus, he was expecting only a small amount of attention for his new face. He had gone from a sunflower in a field of daisies to one of them. Surely the sideways glances at him would slow.

Upon meeting with Thor's friends, Loki was shown otherwise.

Currently, Lady Sif and warriors Fandral and Volstagg, accompanied by Hogun on business from Vanaheim, were having breakfast in the main hall. Their chatter was constant, and of little consequence. Apparently, it was also easily misled. For when Thor and Loki made themselves known, every word in the mess hall died down to a screeching halt. Loki felt the burn of each eye within the room on him. Even the servants stopped, some gasping in realization that Loki looked as Asgardian as his loving keeper. The longer they looked, the more Loki felt the urge to either return to Thor's room to hide, or rip each pair of ogling eyes from their stupid faces.

Thor, seeming to be the only one present who was not put off by the scene, let out a chuckle and put his hand on Loki's shoulder. "Well, friends? Your thoughts? I myself was rather shocked waking up to this face today, but I'd say that this fits him, does it not?"

The warriors at the table exchanged glances. Whether it was because she and Loki had a brief history or because she was the boldest, Sif responded on the others' behalf. "What...? My Lord, I am confused. Is this one of his illusions?"

"No trick is this powerful," Loki interjected. Feeling scrutinized, Loki lifted his chin and stood proudly, hands on his hips. "If I am being forced to live here, it is in my best interests to assimilate into the culture. I'd rather not be a mockery of street children my entire life." He would take the real reason for his change to the grave, it seemed.

Volstagg scratched his scruffy beard. "Er... So this is permanent for you?" A smile began to spread on his fat lips. "Well, well! What trick has your dog learned, Thor! I'm impressed!"

"Be kind, Volstagg," Thor said, warning in his voice. "Loki has given up his heritage to live a better life here in Asgard." A thankful smile ghosted across his lips before he returned to his firm voice. "He has made a great sacrifice. One which I doubt any of us could make, regardless of the circumstances." His hand rested gently on Loki's back. That voice softened, and he turned a kind eye to the man. "This choice was his own. But there are so many reasons I am thankful for it."

"I for one think it's a lovely change!" Fandral said, standing with the pomp that only he could have. "I must say, the guise of an Asgardian suits you, Loki! May I address you informally?" Loki, surprised that Fandral would ask him rather than Thor - his master - tried to play it off.

"It makes no difference to me," he said. He followed Thor as they sat at the table, servants bringing them plates.

"Wonderful!" Fandral chuckled. "Loki it is then. Tell me, what was the method used to cause such a change?"

"Thor has allowed me a few books from the library. I came across one in my reading that contained numerous potions."

"Potions! Well you are a man of magic. Must have been easy for you." Fandral took a bite of fruit before carving out a second slice with his knife. "I must confess, there are few Asgardians that possess the gift these days. Is it different for Jotuns?"

Loki, carving himself a modest bit of meat (while Thor took on an entire leg), shrugged at the question. "I can't say. I've yet to meet a warlock here, so I suppose it must be. It is said that my bloodline has the strongest power within it, yet only my mother, second oldest brother and I were born with it. Of this generation, at any rate."

Sif, leaning forward on her elbow, popped a few grapes in her mouth. "I've heard much about your brothers. I think we all have. But I know little about your mother."

Thor, swallowing, turned a curious eye to his lover. "Yes... I dare say you've spoken much about your family at all." His culture and traditions, surely. But not much was said about his family. "What was your mother like?" 

Loki looked around the table. Everyone was fixated on this conversation, making his neck grow hot with insecurity. He huffed, folding his arms on top of the table. "My story is of no great interest to the likes of you lot. What, now that I have traded in my blue skin for your peach color, I am suddenly worth listening to?"

"Do not be so sour," Fandral remarked. "We had plenty of chat between us during the festival. Before you shed your horns for whatever reason."

Loki realized that Fandral was right, yet he did not relent. "My past is not so interesting. I doubt it would make for any story worth listening to."

The warriors opened their mouths to argue, but Thor was the one who ended their conversation. "It's of no use," he said with a smile. "Loki may have lost his horns, but the man is hard headed as ever. There is little to do to change a stubborn mind."

Sif smirked. "Oh yes... I'm sure you know all about such stubbornness, my prince."

After that, the conversation stayed well away from Loki's family and instead fell upon the warriors teasing one another for various reasons. Loki was thankful for that. Just as he had during the festival, Loki felt himself loosening around the warriors, eventually joining in to speak from time to time. Was this feeling of ease due to his great change? Perhaps he should have done it sooner. And yet, there was a twinge of frustration at it all. The decision was his own, and Loki was happy to keep it for Thor's sake. But for the sake of others? It seemed as though they could look upon him with greater ease now. That they could speak to him with no trouble. That because his face had changed, he was more worthy of a conversation.

How irksome.

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. As Fandral said, they had spoken on kind terms before now. He must simply not be used to his new skin. But his worries were quelled whenever Thor's soft hand laid upon his thigh. Before long, Loki was brought into a snuggle right there at the table. Loki scanned the others for any hint of objection. None arose. Well... even if it did come with feelings of irritation, they were worth it. The idea that he might be able to stay by Thor's side as a friend and a lover without any hint of judgement... That was worth it. Finding a comfortable place against his shoulder, Loki folded himself into a comfortable silence, head nuzzling just beneath Thor's jaw.

When the meal ended, Thor stood, bringing Loki with him. "Come, Loki. I've somewhere we must be."

Loki gave Thor a curious expression. He was unaware of any meetings or plannings Thor was to attend. Still, he asked no questions, and instead followed, side by side. There was now no doubt. The titles of "slave" and "master" had been utterly dissolved, brought to life only in those instances of bedroom debauchery. Speaking of which, Loki was sure Thor had a few ideas since the festival.

They walked for some time, eventually letting out near the back of the palace. Loki spotted the over abundance of flora and furrowed his brows in curiosity. "Where are we...?" A garden? But Loki had never been to this garden before. He had no idea this one even existed. But as they stepped in further, the secret garden became something more. Statues of those in Thor's family and beyond sat in quiet solace. Their beautiful designs were detailed by the growth of vines and flowers, making them one with the world around them. Loki felt a somber cloud overcome him. "A grave... Thor, why have you brought me here?"

But Thor did not seem melancholy. Rather, he smiled as he always had. Reaching out, he took Loki's hand in his and walked his lover down the path and deeper into the graveyard. "I want you to meet someone," he explained.

"Here?" Loki asked, agog. "Who would we meet in a place like-?" That's when the words died in his throat. For Thor had lead him to an exquisite statue at the end of the path. His eyes traced the woman's form, finally ending at her face. It was a woman Loki had never seen before, but knew her name immediately.

"Mother," Thor said to the statue. His eyes were as bright as the morning sun. "Forgive me... I haven't visited you in some time." Reaching out, those fingers wrapped around one of her outstretched hands. It was cold, but firm and smooth to touch. "I've been rather busy. But I've come today out of great importance." Turning, Thor edged Loki closer. His hand rested on the base of his lover's spine. "Loki... meet my mother. Queen Frigga of Asgard."

The sweeter Thor's smile, the worse Loki felt. He looked upon the statue with uncertain eyes, his stomach twisting in knots. What should he do? Should he speak to it as Thor had done? Was that what Thor had meant to accomplish? Loki felt a mix of foolishness and shame, too embarrassed to utter a word at the immobile object. Thor, however, did not goad him, and instead returned his eyes to the statue. Helpless, Loki took ahold of Thor's arm. 

"Why are we here?" he asked softly, not daring to raise his voice. Thor did not seem offended.

"We are here for what I have just said. I wish for you to meet my mother."

"But Thor-" Loki felt his words die in his throat. It did not help when his lover turned expectantly. Forcing himself to build up the courage, he continued. "I... You realize that... this is nothing but a statue?"

A silence sat between them, yet Thor's mood had not fallen. Rather, he sat them at the base of Frigga's feet, gently holding both Loki's hands. "This? Yes. The form of my mother is nothing more than a stone craft. But that doesn't mean she is not here." Now Loki seemed confused. Thor elaborated. "In Asgard, we do not bury the dead. We burn them. These statues are meant as homages to those fallen in the past. During their funerals, the ashes are sent up to the sky, to become one with the very winds. Those winds carry them into the grass, allowing them to rest with the fertile land around us. Every tree, every blade of grass... The earth itself grows new life from loved ones lost in our lives. Therefore..." He gently laced their fingers together, letting this explanation linger between them. "The ones we lose are never truly gone. They are with us with every breeze. Every drop of rainwater. And so, yes, this is not my mother. But can you not feel her?" Thor looked above them, Loki following with his gaze. The canopy of leaves danced in the wind, with shimmering sunlight bouncing from leaf to leaf. It shook with life Loki could not see. Somehow, in some strange way, Thor's explanation made sense. 

"I wish she could have met you," Thor continued, drawing Loki's gaze. Leaning in, Thor laid a hand on Loki's cheek. "I know she would have loved you as greatly as I have."

That brought warmth to him that quickly erased his doubts and shyness. With a small smile on his lips, Loki stood from where he sat, his gaze now lingering on Frigga's frozen face. He put a hand to his heart, head bowed in respect. "It is an honor to meet you, my lady Queen." Lifting his head, he saw Thor grinning in the corner of his eye. "You have raised your son into a fine man." He hesitated, eyes going to Thor now. "Though I dare say he's a bit dull around the edges."

Thor laughed, approaching and wrapping an arm around Loki's neck. There he mangled Loki's silky, raven hair with his fingers, the two laughing. "Oh, dull am I? Just because I do not waste every day _reading_ -!"

"Books would do that heavy head of yours good!" 

"Oh, now am I not only dull but I am heavy! Mother, I do not expect you to approve of this horrid wretch, ha ha!" 

" _Thor!_ "

The voice that sounded was not Loki's, but a deeper, more commanding tone. And one that showed displeasure in every aspect. That warmth between them vanished as Thor looked up to see his father approaching. A look of fury was in his eye.

"Father-"

"What do you think you are doing? Disgracing your mother's tomb by bringing an outsider!"

Thor was struck by just how harsh Odin's words were. "Loki meant no disrespect, Father."

"Oh? Then how does one explain that wretched face he wears?" Odin snapped his gaze to Loki, who shrunk back just slightly. "He makes a mockery of our race!" 

Thor began to grow bolder, taking a half step between the two. "I asked Loki to change on my behalf." A lie, but one that relieved Loki of responsibility for Odin's anger. 

"So it is you who shows so little respect for your own blood?"

"It was not my intention to show disrespect-"

"Regardless of your intentions, my son, this is an act against your very family! To have that Jotun sway your lifestyle is bad enough. But to mold such a creature into a face as our own would look? Have you no shame, son?"

"Mold my-? Father, what transpires between Loki and I are out of love and devotion between us both! You talk of shame, but what would mother say if she saw your own prejudice? It is you who carries this family's dishonor-!"

_Slap!_

It echoed throughout the entire graveyard. Loki, not having seen it coming, was completely still. His eyes were wide, and his voice was gone. His gaze had not left the hand of Odin, still hovering in the air. Thor had been slapped hard enough for his face to turn, hair hiding his eyes for the moment. A great tension grew between father and son. While Odin glared at the side of Thor's face, Thor did not remove his own eyes from the ground. Finally, Odin's hand retracted, though Thor remained as still as ever.

"I will never see this person at your mother's grave site again," Odin said, his voice calm and collected. "Have I made myself clear?"

Slowly, Thor turned back to his father. His eyes were sharp, their strong glower trying to hide the hurt within them. There was so much Thor wanted to say. So much he wanted to scream to the heavens. Odin did not own his mother's grave. Frigga had been loved by Thor just as much as Odin had. Her loss pained the son as it did the father. Yet Thor did not argue. He knew it was best not to. Reaching behind him, he took Loki's hand and marched them both away from Frigga's grave.

Loki glanced over his shoulder, but Odin had yet to turn and watch them go. So, rounding back to Thor, Loki walked with no comment, feeling Thor's hand tighten on his fingers.

 


	16. Loyalties

"Are you certain now is the time?"

"If I was not, would I be so foolish as to proceed?"

"No... of course not, Majesty. It-it's just..." 

"Are you afraid?"

Silence followed such a question. 

"No, Your Grace."

"I see. Then you are stupid. To breech Asgard is a prospect all sane men should fear. Regardless of the plight, you should be protected. The guise will work on even Heimdall, the gate keeper. Only eyes such as ours may see the truth."

"For certain, Sire?"

Again a pause.

"Forgive me. I do not mean to doubt."

"Be sure you do not do so again. Now be off. And Carr? Know that it is possible for these months to have changed things. My sources say that the prince has grown comfortable in his life. So when you do see my son-

_"-be sure to remind him where his loyalties lie."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed that Asgard could not survive on days that were not beautiful. Down by the lake, this was especially true. The mid-morning sun gleamed against the water's surface like thousands of dazzling lights. The whole bank was given a soft glow as a result. All around, the world was peaceful and still. Save for the commotion in the dirt, of course. Thor, at the moment, was wrestling with a scaly, grotesque creature he referred to as a bildshnipe. Hideous things by Loki's standards, but Thor seemed to regard them with the same caution as he would when at play with a dog. The thing was at least twice the man's girth, snarling and snapping as Thor grappled it to the ground. Its horrid hisses were rivaled only by Thor's laughter as he did so. Mud caked the lower half of his body, his clothes far more suited for this activity than any royal garments.

"Ha!" With a twist of his knees, Thor sent the bildshnipe hurling into the lake, smiling as it flailed about on its back. He cocked his head over his shoulder, hands on his hips. His eyes were cast upwards. "Must you insist on abstaining, Loki? I'm sure even you would find entertainment in this beast."

Loki, for all intents and purposes, was as far away from the filthy engagement as possible. Resting along a tree branch, his hand cradled a book from the castle. He glanced over the edge in a bored fashion, though he wasn't nearly as annoyed as he let on. "I have more of my fair share of stupid brutes with you on a nightly bases, my dear Asgardian. I'm in no rush to deal with more of them."

Thor's grin turned all the brighter. "Funny. You've never had complaints _before_ \- OOF!" While he'd been speaking, the bildshnipe managed to right itself and slam into Thor's middle, knocking him a good five feet across the bank. But, shaking it off with ease, Thor was up again, and the two once more locked into a tangle.

Loki's reading had been rather passive by this point. And with good reason. As Thor struggled with the creature, Loki shamelessly allowed his eyes to wander. Slick with lake water and mud, Thor's clothes were drenched and stuck to his skin. He could see the contours of Thor's impressive figure. Hidden within the shade of his tree, Loki was free to daydream about the feel of those muscles. Not that he had to imagine much. He'd experienced just about every inch there was. After Thor washed himself of the bildshnipe's stench, he'd have to remind himself. Maybe right there on the lake's shore. Gods above Loki was getting more brazen by the day...

Finally, the animal was defeated, and scurried off with its tail (thing?) between its legs. Thor watched it retreat with a twinkle in his bright eye. "Victory!"

"Oh yes, congratulations. You have defeated a mighty foe." Loki's sarcasm rang out like a clear temple bell. "Now wash yourself. I've seen children less filthy."

Thor looked down at his person, which was now half brown. The water would do him good. Smile returning, he tilted his gaze back to his lover on the tree branch. "Only if I've a loyal servant to scrub my back."

Loki closed his book, his lips twitching. "Funny. I don't see one around."

Again, Thor laughed. "Come on down, Loki. I promise not to soil you with my dirty hands."

"What a disappointment."

Eventually, the two found themselves in the cool water of the lake. Waist deep and nude, Loki ran water down his back and arms, watching as the mud trailed away. Like earth beneath a gentle rain. As Thor became clean, he noticed the clear contrast in the tone of his hand and the color of Thor's back. Even in this Asgardian form, Loki was still so different. The looks had stopped, of course. as had the idle chatter when people thought he wasn't looking. But he did not feel any true solidarity with this new body. Even after a week being in it. When he wasn't with Thor, that is.

"You're quiet, my love." Thor glanced behind him, his honest eyes piercing through Loki's thoughts. "Something the matter?" He turned then, those strong arms cradling Loki close to him. Instantly the man melded into Thor's hold. With a happy sigh, he settled comfortably against his chest. His smile returned. how easy for it to do so when in Thor's company.

"No," he answered. "There are merely times with life demands silence."

"How dull."

"You just don't appreciate it."

Thor placed a kiss on Loki's crown, the two quietly partaking in one another's embrace. There, in Thor's arms, Loki felt a sense of peace. The prince had this effect on him. He wished that this moment could last a life time. For it was true; Loki had been quiet that day. Somewhere, deep down, Loki had woken that day to a nagging feeling of anxiousness. As if this wonderful life would be taken from him at any moment.

"Ah ha! Glad to see you've not left yet!"

The two looked up from their spot in the lake. There, the warriors Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral and Sif had approached. Fandral had been the voice that spoke, hand up in a wave. "May we join you?"

"Of course," said Thor. After all, there was plenty of room in the lake for more than just he and Loki. Who, quite notably, said nothing. Releasing the foriegn prince, Thor approached, predictably all sunshine and smiles. "And what plans does the day hold for you, my friends?"

"Nothing," said Volstagg as he removed his tunic. "Hence the urge to bother you."

As they stripped, Loki felt the instinct to look away, particularly when Sif removed her own dressings. But, unsurprisingly, none of the Asgardians - or even Hogun - seemed bothered by nakedness. Seems Loki still had much to get used to. The four settled into the water, Sif diving beneath the surface to wet her hair. Volstagg, meanwhile, found a seat amongst the many rocks, sighing in relaxation.

"His Majesty had us break in some new soldiers today," he remarked. "No sport in it. It grew tiresome."

"You're just bitter because you're their least favorite," Sif remarked with a smile.

"Oh?" Fandral gave himself a gloating grin, hand on his hip. "And who is their favorite, I do wonder? The dashing swordsman of golden hair, perhaps?" 

"Forgive me," said Hogun quietly. His voice was wise and sparing. "But I believe it was Lady Sif who garnered most of their attention."

While Fandral pouted, Thor laughed. "Do not be so put down, friend. Very few can compete with Lady Sif's grace."

"Yes, I suppose I should know this by now."

Amidst their banter, Loki noticed a look on quiet Volstagg's face. His eyes unabashedly were kept on Loki. His expression was not sour, but it was not sweet. A small chill ran up Loki's spine. Even with Thor's other friends growing to accept him, Volstagg was not so keen. Stubborn as ever, there were still moments when he could feel Volstagg's glare on his neck. He'd come to ignore it, but his feelings of anxiousness were made worse the longer the Lieutenant stared. Finally, Loki could bare it no longer. Jaw clenching, he spoke. A bit louder than intended, to be honest.

"Is there something on your mind?" he snapped.

The playful chatter died down immediately. All attention was now on the glaring looks of both Volstagg and Loki. Even Thor was silent, surprised by the sudden turn of atmosphere. Volstagg's bushy brows tightened over his eyes. "A few things," he replied. "How fares that body of yours, Jotun? Or are you even that any more? It's hard to really know what to make of you these days." 

"Volstagg..." Thor put his hand on Loki's shoulder, but he would not shy away as he had before. Moving forward a bit, Loki lifted his head.

"It was not my intention to be 'made of' by the likes of you."

"Ease, Laufyson. I mean no disrespect. In fact, I'm rather pleased with the result."

"Are you? How lucky for me."

"Mind your tone. I actually think you've made a decent Asgardian."

That caught Loki a bit off guard. Blinking, his hardened countenance dropped a bit in confusion. "You... you do?"

"Surely. Better an Asgardian than a Jotun in any case. Not to mention I believe this change of yours has made you a deal more civil." Loki's bemusement quickly shattered into anger. Still, Volstagg continued. "That could of course be the influence of our mighty prince. Or perhaps at your core you are simply less despicable than most frost giants. That way would make it a great deal easier for you to adapt to a better way of living at least."

By now, Loki's anger was quick to rise, and the more Volstagg spoke, the more outrage he felt. "You'd do well to keep those opinions to yourself, Asgardian! This change was made for my own comfort here in Asgard, but do _not_ assume that I have lost sight of my parentage! I am still of Jotunheim, and _proudly_ carry my family's blood!"

"Loki! That's enough!" Thor pulled on Loki's shoulders, keeping him from lurching forward at Volstagg. "Calm yourself."

"Calm!? Me!? I am _perfectly calm!_ " Loki, by now, had rounded to Thor, eyes blazing. "And why am I to be told to calm? I demand that you reprimand your vassal if only to teach him manners!"

"I am no one's vassal, cretin!"

"Both of you! Desist, _now!_ " Thor's powerful voice echoed around the lake. It was enough to stop the bickering, but not enough to keep the two from their hateful looks. With no stomach for it any longer, Loki wrenched from Thor's grip and marched out of the water towards his clothes. He threw them on quickly, snatching his book along the way. Thor was already right behind. "Loki-" 

"Why am I always the one that is cornered!?" Loki cried, rounding to Thor. His hands trembled as a force of uncertainty deep inside him rattled his very bones. "He begins arguments with me, and yet  _I_ am the one meant to apologize!" 

"Loki stop this! You are fanatic - look, your hands quiver!"

"Damned if they do!" he shouted. "I will not allow myself to be toyed with by the likes of _him!_ By any of you!"

"Loki, calm down!" Sif called from the river. "Do not let him spoil your day! He means not what he says-"

" _Then why say it at all!?_ " Fuming by now, Loki turned and once more headed into the thicket surrounding the lake. Thor reached out to take his arm, but Loki would have none of it. Instead, he pulled it away, his voice rising. "I am returning to the palace. Follow me and I shall not speak to you again!" That had Thor freeze in place. It was a hallowed threat, but Loki's temper was wild. He needed space to himself lest he and Volstagg bring their confrontation to blows. So, Thor allowed him to leave, words of comfort stuck to his throat.

As his lover vanished, Thor's hand remained in the air, as if still reaching for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki walked deep into the forest. Though he claimed to return to the palace, Loki had no idea where to go, in truth. He allowed his feet to wander, sometimes following the path, other times weaving through trees to walk off his anger. How long he walked, he had no knowledge. Only that he allowed his feet to move on their own accord. His mind was buzzing, as if a hive of wasps had taken residence. Thor... Loki loved him dearly, but the man was so thick headed! Did he not see that Volstagg was relentless in his prejudice against Loki? Why had he not taken action against the bastard for saying such things? Had they been in Loki's kingdom, no man would keep their tongue after insulting _his_ beloved. So why was Volstagg still without punishment? Thor's loyalty made his head ache.

Finally letting his feet pause, he lingered in the middle of the woods, his breath a great deal harsher than before. It was not due to exertion. It was instead caused by his frustration. His heart pounded against his chest, skin prickling with discontent. What he wouldn't give to send a blade deep into Volstagg's ugly face...

A rustle from the brush caught his eye. Pulled from his cloud of anger, Loki was suddenly on his guard. A shadow lurked close by, the sound of breath trying desperately to remain concealed. Loki's patience had run out by now. With a flick of his wrist, the shadows suddenly worked against the stranger, becoming tangible enough to pull him from hiding. An ogre, fat and bald, was yanked into the light of the forest and thrown to his face. Loki took a half step back, hand raised in self defense.

An ogre? In the forests of Asgard? Something was wrong. Ogres did not stray far from the swamplands of the east, let alone travel so far west to reach the shoreline of Asgard. Both hands now at the ready, a green mist fell from his fingertips. Nothing to truly help him fight, but Loki knew enough illusions to help him escape if need be.

"What is the meaning of this? Why have you come here, foul beast?" Loki planted his feet firmly in the leaves below, prepared for anything.

The ogre lifted its yellow head, beady eyes searching Loki's person. Suddenly, the thing gasped and dropped to its knees. There, it bent forward, bowing low enough to touch its head to the ground. "My prince!" it cried. "It _is_ you! Forgive me, I was so uncertain-!"

Well, prepared for anything but that.

Now baffled by the monster's strange behavior, Loki lowered his hands a bit, body relaxing. "Your...? Who are you-?" That's when he saw it. A flash of truth. Loki narrowed his eyes, seeing the faintest traces of blue aura around the earthly ogre. A spark of understanding came to Loki, and he relaxed further. "A Jotun. Why has a Jotun come disguised as an ogre?"

The stranger looked up, seemingly pleased that Loki saw through his rouse. Standing straight, he put a hand on his heart, bowing his head slightly still. "My name is Carr. A vassal of your father, the Mighty King Laufey. His Majesty entrusted me to deliver a message to you."

That bad feeling returned to Loki's gut tenfold. "What message?" he asked carefully. "I thought my father severed all contact with me." _The son he sold away._ Loki refrained from saying that part out loud.

"It was the only way to drop the guard of the enemy," Carr explained. "I have no letter to bare, lest it reach unwanted eyes. But the message is thus: The Great King plans to attack Asgard."

Loki's heart dropped.

"The attack is due on the night of the new moon. Less than a fortnight away, My Lord. That night, you are to escape to the northern farmlands. There, your father's men will guide you back to safety."

Loki's throat had gone dry. His head grew light. An attack? An act of war? Knowing his father, his armies would do untold damage to an unsuspecting city. The last time, he had succeeded in murdering the queen. Who knew what he would be capable of this time? Perhaps... a prince...? Such a thought pierced Loki like an arrow. 

"Why now?" Loki tried hard not to sound desperate. "Why does he plan to attack now? I have not heard of this before!" 

"Forgive me, My Lord. It was the Almighty King's desire to keep this a secret from you. But rest assured, he has not forgotten about his youngest son! For you were an integral part to his brilliant plan, Prince Loki! In acting as a token of peace, it is you who have lured the Asgardians into a sense of security! And if I may say, My Lord, you have done this beautifully!"

He had to think. Think of something! Anything to deter this attack! So many lives would be lost... The children on the streets. The kindly women of the place. Sif, Fandral... Thor... Oh Thor. He had suffered so much all ready. If he were to survive this oncoming attack, what further damage would be done to his mind? To his spirit? If he did not die, he would surely be broken. Loki could not allow that to happen!

"This attack is ill advised!" Loki began frantically. "The Asgardians are well stalked in arms and men. Jotunheim is still recovering from the great war. We will lose so many if he goes through with this ludicrous plan!"

"Eh?" Carr was confused. He took a moment, unsure of how to react to Loki's bold claim. "So it is true then... You have grown to like this life. Am I correct?"

Loki was helpless. Caught in his lie by a mere servant. But no! He could not admit the truth! What would his father do if...?

His father.

His father would be here.

Within a fortnight.

Fear like never before filled every inch of him. His father was not a merciful man. If he saw Loki... like this... As a Jotun, Loki had never experienced the true meaning of the cold. Yet now, more than ever, he felt that cold grip him. And it was for more than just how he looked. If Laufey ever discovered his affair, there was no telling the punishment he would receive. Years of torment as a child returned to him in a flood of memories.

_His father would be so angry with him._

Loki quickly put on an emotionless face. Better to show nothing in times of distress. To be so free with emotion was the mark of weakness. And so, he straightened, his eyes unreadable, and glared at the servant Carr.

"Who was it who told you this," Loki demanded.

Carr suddenly looked distressed. "I- I-it was your father the King," he replied.

"I see. Then my father is wrong." Such a statement! Loki continued. "I have been nothing but a captive. You see what they have made me do?" He held out his hand, as if showing him his newly transformed face. "This is no disguise of trickery, boy. I have been made a doll by these arrogant Asgardians." Like beads of water, the lies rolled off his tongue. He couldn't stop himself, no matter how much he wished otherwise. "Do not presume to know me, servant."

Carr was now shaking at the knees, bowing his head in apology. "Of course! Forgive me, My Lord! I shall not speak so out of line again!"

"You say my father will arrive soon."

"Yes, Highness!"

"Fine. Then I shall wait for his arrival with grace."

_"Loki?"_

A bad situation quickly grew worse as Thor's voice called out from the trees. Carr, his face worrisome, turned to Loki for instruction, too frightened to try and escape. Not that he had much time. Thor appeared a mere second after he had called out Loki's name. Immediately he went for the man. Thankfully, he was dressed. 

"Finally! You mustn't wander off like that! You could-" Thor's eyes landed on the face of Carr, and suddenly Thor went from caring concern to anger. He stood before Loki protectively, eyes locked on the Jotun in disguise. "What? And what is an ogre doing in these lands!? Explain yourself!" 

"A-a-ah!" Carr quickly held up his hands, tying to calm the angry prince. "F-forgive me! I am a simple merchant-!"

"Did you touch this man?" Thor growled. "Did you lay a _finger_ on this man, ogre!?"

"N-n-no! Not at all! You have my word, please-!"

"Forget him, Thor."

Both pairs of eyes turned to Loki, whose arms were crossed. His eyes were closed. He could not stand looking at either of them. "This fool got himself lost. There is no need to fret over a bumbling ogre. He's no more threatening than a flea."

Thor seemed skeptical, but Carr was quick to go along with it. "Ah! Yes! Please, forgive my intrusion, Prince Thor! I will be on my way now! Ah ha ha!" With another deep bow, Carr turned and made his escape. This left the lovers alone in a state of silence. Thor, deciding to push the stranger from his mind, turned to Loki. His face was apologetic.

"I was worried you'd gotten lost," he said quietly.

"I'm not a simpleton," Loki snarled. "I can find my way back with no assistance." He still had not turned to look at Thor.

The Prince of Thunder put on a tiny smile. "Well... at least I know you lied to me."

A shock of panic swept over Loki and he jerked his face upwards. "What?" His heart thudded louder than before. How he hoped Thor could not hear!

But instead of punishing Loki for letting the Jotun escape, Thor brought him in close. He placed a gentle kiss on Loki's forehead. "I came after you, yet you still speak to me. Good thing, too."

Oh. That.

Was that really his only problem but five minutes ago?

Confused and troubled, Loki said nothing. Instead, he found comfort in the warmth of Thor's embrace. Yet he wished that those arms held poison within them.

He couldn't tell Thor. He simply couldn't. If his father found out that Loki had ruined his plans... Loki imagined Laufey before him, and the terror he felt so often as a child returned to him, as real as it had been then. As much as he loved Thor, he feared Laufey a great deal more. That thought in mind, Loki tightened his hold on his golden prince.

How he hated himself.


	17. Smiling Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating lately - I've actually just moved into a new place! All exciting stuff. Now that I have wifi again, I'll be sure to update more often!

Five days. That's how long it'd been since Loki had started acting strangely. It began during their trip to the woodland lake. Thor, at first, thought that Loki was still sore over his bickering with Volstagg. But when he suggested the two attempt to make amends, Loki acted almost as though he'd forgotten about the whole thing. And thus Thor was stumped. He had worried that perhaps Loki was angry with him. Had that been the case, however, Loki would have told him so right out. It was just his way. His treatment of his lover had not altered in any way. It was Loki's reaction to his treatment that had changed. Lately, the two men had formed a routine. Wake together, waste time in the sunlight of the morning, eat, daily activities, a bath, supper, a drink, and to bed, where they would happily lose themselves in their world of romance and splendor. The basics of their days had not shifted, really. But where once Loki had indulged in Thor's advances, even giving way to a few of his own, he was now quiet and reserved. Thor thought perhaps it was his shyness come to return to the forefront of his personality. Yet thinking back to those early days, Loki had never acted as he did now. Now, when Thor went to embrace him in their bed, Loki neither accepted nor pushed him away. When Thor tried to excite Loki's passions as he had countless times before, Loki offered an excuse to shy away from the activity. In the mornings, Loki would rise from their bed early, sometimes going to his books or even leaving the room all together. As if to avoid Thor in their more intimate moments. Thor had tried asking, of course, but it got him little more than another tired excuse. Yet, for the well being of his lover, Thor did not press. It was not unusual for Loki to need space to himself, and thus Thor allowed it.

He just wished Loki would trust him with the truth.

On the fifth day, Thor had tried approaching Loki with food in hand. A few freshly baked loaves of bread from the kitchens and a horn of meed to share. He had been told his servant was seen on the veranda, and so there he went. Stepping onto the cobblestone, he looked about. Loki was not by the fountain, nor on the benches beneath the center tree. Thor frowned, wondering where Loki had run off to. That's when he saw a shadow shift along the ground. Tracing its origin, he spotted Loki, resting along the branches. Balanced as a feline, he lay against his back, staring off into the distance. Another quality Thor noted: Loki had been silent. Too silent. Thor wished there was some way he could just pry open his mind and see what troubled him. But for now, all he could do was wait for his return.

Silently, Thor approached the tree, hoisting himself onto the bench, his shoulders coming up to Loki's waist. By the time Loki noticed Thor's presence, he was already holding up their intended snack, smile as bright as he could bare. "You've taken to trees quite a lot lately," he remarked. "I dare say it can't be too comfortable. Join me below and I shall provide you the most sparing seat I've to offer!"

Loki was calm, face hard to pin down. He eyed the two little loaves of bread. "I'm not hungry," he responded.

"Nonsense! You barely touched your plate this morning."

Loki's brows tightened above his nose. "Is this a crime?"

His defensive attitude caught Thor off guard. "I - no, of course-"

"Then I don't see why you insist on badgering me about it." With that, Loki turned away sharply, rolling along his branch so that his back was facing Thor. The prince was a little lost for words. Was it him? Was there something he'd done? He'd forgotten, perhaps? Thor felt his heart clench at the rejection, his hands lowering just a bit.

"Loki..." The ice prince made no move. "Please. I see you every hour of the day yet I feel you grow more distant with each one that passes. Tell me your woes, my love."

Loki clenched his body, knees tucking in sharply. "I have no woes," he snapped, refusing to look at him.

"But you must! You shun my very touch these days. Once, I saw oceans in your eyes. Now, I shudder to think of how shallow your gaze has become. What is it you are hiding from me?"

"I have told you, it is _nothing_."

"This is not so! Let me help you through your strife..." 

"For the love of the gods, Thor!" Suddenly, Loki was sitting straight up, turning a furious face down to his helpless partner. "There is no strife for you to guide me through! I have no qualms, and if I did, you would have no ability to magically erase them from mind! _Do not presume me to be so weak that I would run to you for every little issue, you great oaf!"_

Thor was silent a good moment after such an outburst. Loki had never been the most sensitive of men, but his tone was sharper than Thor had ever heard. Even when he and Volstagg bickered. To hear it directed at _him_... It cut him. Once the initial shock was over with, Thor covered his pain with a look of frustration. Not that it was a hard mask to fabricate. Feeling his temper rising, Thor clutched the horn of meed tightly, threatening to crack its very husk. Loki, while he did not hide away from such a harsh glare, felt regret sneak up on him. His own glower lessened, slowly being replaced with worry and guilt. Yet if an apology was to be said, it never left his lips. Thor would not give him that chance.

Stepping back, Thor actually threw the horn against the trunk of the tree. The meed splashed, a bit splattering against Loki's bare hand. "Fine," Thor growled. "Keep your troubles locked away for eternity. What do I care of your petty problems?!" He had tried. Gods only knew he had tried to be attentive to Loki's needs. But if Loki would only lash out at his offer to help - fine. Why should Thor try so hard if Loki refused to reciprocate. Throwing the bread to the ground as well, Thor stormed away, that boyish anger resurfacing in an instant. It was a good thing he left - Thor was in just the right mood to break something clean in half.

He was in this mood when Sif found him on the training pitch. The woman had been wandering the grounds with little on her mind when she spotted Thor ravaging a straw dummy. The poor thing was barely holding together with Thor's treatment. He'd grabbed a staff used to spar with underling soldiers and swatted at the target hard enough to send its stuffing flying every which way. "Raugh!" With a mighty blow to the head, The staff actually snapped in two, its upper piece splintering away like a sparrow. Thor did not take this as his sign to stop. Instead, he threw the broken weapon aside and took to his fists. They, certainly, would not break on such a weak target...

"I dare say you've won, My Prince." Sif had approached by now, Thor's beating hands slowing to a halt. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he closed his eyes, hands hovering near his middle. "Praytell, what crime has this fine young man committed against you?" The "fine young man" in question was now listing to one side, its stuffed head threatening to fall off. Thor huffed, turning away and grabbing the broken staff. Sif watched, a sort of knowing glint in her eye. "Ah. I remember this boy."

"What?" Thor looked over his shoulder, in no mood for riddles. "What boy?"

Sif walked forward without fear, and pushed her finger in the middle of his crown. " _This_ boy. The one who broke his toys in a fit of anger. The arrogant, pig-headed boy I so detested as a child. I have not seen him for some time."

Thor narrowed his eyes. No riddles, it seemed, but certainly a joke. He went over to the other half of the staff, swiping it from the dirt. "I am in no state to indulge you, Sif. Do you have business with me?"

"It seems I do now. What ails you, My Lord?"

Thor let out an exasperated growl. " _Loki_ is what ails me! Just now, I approached him with an offering of food and drink, as I have so many times before. And yet, when I ask him his troubles, I am made a mockery of! He has been neglectful of the very man he intended to monopolize, and _now_ he is so brazen as to shame me for worrying?"

"Mm. Troubling indeed."

"You mock me as well?"

"It is not my intention, Prince."

"And yet you do."

"That is a decision of your own making, I dare say."

Thor sat himself on an upturned bucket, the broken staff in his hands. By now, a ruddy color had hit his bronze cheeks, his face torn with agony and anxiety. He stared at the pieces, as if waiting for them to provide the answer. Sif, her arms folded along her chest, clicked her tongue in a disapproving way. "I cannot say that I blame him."

"What?" Thor turned to his friend, who by now was smiling lightly.

"Such children. You say something worries him, and in doing so he has neglected you. Has it crossed your mind that his worry is about you, by chance?" Surprisingly... no. It had not. The answer showed on his face. Sif continued. "Loki is from a world of controlled emotions. Even I can see the difference in him since his arrival. A difference that has nothing to do with the new face he bares.

"Something could weigh on his mind, this is true. But how likely is he to tell the man who demands either an answer, or a return to the way things were? Why, if he saw you behaving as you do now, I'd be shocked if he wanted to tell you anything again."

A great guilt flooded Thor after that. While it was true he had tried his best to give Loki all he needed, he was impatient. Still, with all Thor's ravings, had he not been more than fair to the Jotun born? A look of desperation crossed his face. "Is it so terrible that I only wish to help?"

"Perhaps you have no help to give."

"Perish the thought!" Thor exclaimed. "If I, as a lover, cannot help, what good am I to him? And if I _can_ aid him in some small way, why does he neglect to ask? I cannot fix what I do not know is broken!"

Sif, a great sigh on her lips, sat beside Thor. Her hands tucked themselves between her knees. "Then, if you are so inclined, you must seek out your own answers. Find another way to end your dilemma."

"There is no other way."

"There is _always_ another way."

But how? How could Thor find the truth without asking? How could he comfort Loki without knowing? Thor's brow furrowed deeply as he put himself in thought. "I fear I do not know where to start."

Sif smiled at the omission. "Then I will help you, my friend." Warmly, she took his hand with both of her own, her eyes earnest. "But first I must ask. And you must think.

"Where would one go to find answers?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stupid. He was being absolutely stupid. Lashing out at Thor like that, becoming little more than a recluse in his presence... The end of the two weeks until his father's arrival was nearing closer. Yet Loki had neither told Thor nor lead him astray. There where moments when he found himself drumming up the courage to tell the truth. To warn he and the people of Asgard that their lives were in danger. But all it took was a reminder of Laufey's cruel ways to keep his voice locked away. Even still, as each day passed, Loki realized how terrible it must look to come out with the truth days after knowing it. Strangely enough, loyalty to his homeland was not a variable in his decision. Where once he was a proud Jotun, looking down upon the other Realms for their savagery and poor culture. Now... he felt no more connection to his home of ice. Was this Thor's doing? Loki didn't doubt it.

He walked along the rim of the courtyard, gnawing at his thumbnail. It was a habit of his in fits of nervousness and indecision. His feet had been leading him blindly since Thor's outburst. His hurt face flashed before his eyes every time he blinked. He knew that if he did not make up with Thor, it would be the death of him. Yet how could he enjoy a life of comfort and love while knowing that death awaited this beautiful city? What to do... what to do...

"Loki."

He jumped, broken out of his thoughts. Thor stood but a few feet away from him. His voice was soft, and in his hand he held a small book. One Loki had not seen before - meaning he must have recently visited the library. Loki was silent, unsure if he should feign anger or nothing at all.

"I've come to apologize." Thor's plea cut him deeply, guilt poisoning his very veins. "What I did today was inexcusable. I should not have reacted so rashly." A pause hung between them. Clearly, Thor was not finished, and so Loki remained silent until he began again. "I cannot know what troubles you. Do not lie, I know that something does. Nor can I... nor can I force you to enlighten me."

Now more than ever, Loki longed to tell him the truth. Longed to break free of the fear that bound him to silence, and ready Thor for the upcoming danger. His mask of stone melted away, and all that remained was a tender, yearning expression. He clutched his hands to his chest, a half step towards his lover. "Thor..."

"I ask only one question. After this, I will not pry any further. But... I must know. Loki... My love... are you pregnant?"

That teetering, beautiful moment came skidding to a very abrupt halt. A look of confusion came to his eyes, his mouth half way open in shock. "...I beg your pardon," he finally said. "Am I... what?"

Suddenly, Thor pulled the book up to his sights, cracking it open to a page that was dog-eared. Looks like it was one of many, from the state of the page corners. "I discovered this book of anatomy for the different races," he began explaining. "For Jotuns, I found a peculiar fact. It is said that there is a male child born every few generations that holds the ability to make life. This child comes from a bloodline steeped in magic, which allows him to manipulate his body to accommodate a growing babe."

Well that...

That was not what Loki was expecting.

A sudden flash of bashfulness hit him. "I am most certainly not!" he declared, his cheeks ruby red. "How dare you even - what would make you ask such a ridiculous question?!"

Thor looked rather timid at the accusation, the book now limp in his hands. "B-but I... you've been acting so strangely that I thought-"

"Simply because I have been acting strangely does not mean that I am pregnant with your seed! Good gods, man!"

Defeated, Thor let his head hang. "I... forgive me. Again." He tucked the book away under his arm, Loki's flaring anger quickly subsiding. "I shall leave you to your thoughts." An all new wave of guilt rotted away at Loki's insides. Before he could stop himself, he lurched forward, taking Thor's wrist.

"Please." The words were spilling from his lips with astounding ease. "I... for what I said I... I don't..." Strange. He had so much more to apologize for, yet had the most trouble doing so. Stomach churning, he leaned in forward, his eyes refusing to leave Thor's own. "I... I have been left to my thoughts all day. And I - I'm hungry."

That allowed Thor to slip into his familiar, charming smile. He pushed a tendril of black, silky hair away from Loki's eye. In doing so, those fingertips lovingly stroked the soft skin of his cheek. Loki was powerless against their pull. Before he knew it, he was flush up against Thor, feeling the power beneath that massive stature.

Without a second thought, they kissed.

In that kiss, Loki decided.

There would be no stopping his father. Even if Thor and the others were told, what could they really change? Laufey was strong willed - too strong. He would breech the walls of Asgard no matter the circumstances. And so, Loki resolved to no longer hide away from Thor. He would not tell them of his father's coming, but he would not play into his game, either. He would spend his final days in the golden city beside the one man who made him happiest.

For as long as he possibly could.


	18. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about the comment section. There was recently some comments that were taken down because I found them to not only be insulting to me, but ended up with some very personal information in my defense. I do not normally take comments down, but I believe this qualifies. Just to avoid this in the future, here are some warnings about this chapter:
> 
> There is quite a bit that happens below. Without giving too much away, if you have any difficulties with abuse or PTSD, I caution you with reading ahead. 
> 
> But please keep in mind that nothing I write is done so frivolously, or without proper thought to its implications. 
> 
> This story has always had a dark twist to it. And it will continue to have one. 
> 
> Thank you.

Loki spent a long time staring at the moon.

There was nothing particular about this moon that caught his interest. There was nothing about this moon that off set any others. It was not a different color, it was not a different size. It was the same moon that it had been, changing and moving with the life of the world beneath it. But this moon was special. Not for any visible reason. In fact, for only one reason that Loki alone knew.

It was the last moon before his father's attack.

The two week time frame was finished. In less than twenty four hours, Laufey and his men would storm the shores of Asgard, break the walls and slaughter the people inside. He could see them now, pouring through the gates like puss from a wound. Infecting the beauty of all that lay before them. He could hear their cries. The stomping of their feet. Smell the blood in the air, accompanied by the screams of the innocent. Loki knew that all this was to come to pass, and yet there he was. Staring at the moon. He had not said a word. Not one. Even in those times where he convinced himself to speak out, to stop the treachery, his tongue was held. And what now? What, after so much time had passed, could he possibly say now? How could he approach Thor, the Prince of Asgard and his dearest heart, and explain that he had known for weeks what his father planned to do? They would have no hope of stopping it. None at all. So why waist the breath? Why put Thor through the anxiety of waiting? Still... Loki had been eaten away by the guilt of it all. And thus he remained at Thor's window, gazing into the night sky. Staring, relentlessly, at the moon.

Two arms, strong but silent, wrapped their way around his slender body. A kiss to Loki's neck accompanied these arms. Loki pushed his problems aside and fell back into the comfort of his lover. Who knew when he would have the chance again? Turning, he brought Thor into a sweet embrace, their kiss sealing each other into place. Before long, Thor's giant hands pulled at Loki's hips, coercing him further inward. When they broke for air, Loki nuzzled his thin nose against Thor's squat one. He felt the roughness of his skin, yet the sweet simplicity of his lips. Loki had always appreciated the man for his beauty and strength. Perhaps he should have appreciated him for more than such trivial matters...?

"You are quiet," Thor pointed out. His fingers made trails along his spine, above the sheer fabric of his silken robe. "What is on your mind, my darling?"

Loki felt his throat stick. He should just say it. Blurt it out! Tell the man the truth and be done with it! Yet his body refused. Unable to form the words, Loki dove deeper into Thor's arms. His brow was pressed deep against Thor's nape. "We should retire to bed soon," he said.

"Ah. Of course." Thor kissed Loki's temple, but did not move to bring them to their bed. "Are you tired, my little giant?"

Loki hesitated. Who knew if this would be their final night together? "No," he finally said. Lifting his head, he locked his eyes with the former. "I did not say we should sleep."

"I see." Those thick fingers threaded through Loki's dark hair. It was akin to water slipping through his knuckles. "Then what, praytell, would you rather do?"

His heart swelled. Those thin hands, creeping up to the man's clavicle, gripped the neckline of his tunic. "Make love to me," came his quiet response. "Take me to bed, and show me the truth behind your words."

That oh-so familiar smile returned to Thor's glowing face. Without a word, Thor broke from Loki's arms, only to take his hands and lead him to their bedside. There, Loki was laid along the sheets, Thor following soon after. Their kisses continued as Loki's dressing gown was slipped from his arms. Thor's beard tickled his skin with each scratchy kiss. Loki laid there, gripping at anything he could manage. Before long, Thor's body had shed itself of his own clothing. But just as those creamy legs were lifted at attention, Loki's hand rested against his shoulder.

"Wait." Through the dark, Loki saw a questionable gaze in Thor's crystal blues. Lifting himself to his elbows, Loki spared Thor a kiss. "Lay down." Again, the prince seemed confused, but agreed. Now on his back, his manhood lay against his belly at half attention. Loki would have to fix that. Grabbing their can of leaf oil, he spread some along his fingers and worked the man's shaft until both were satisfied. Loki spent his time wisely, lavishing Thor with well deserved appreciation. He felt his skin grow tighter, felt the veins come to life beneath his fingers. By the time all seemed ready, Loki went to himself. Taking the oil from Thor's piece, he slid fingers into his own entry way, stretching and feeling the walls that lay within. He willed them to loosen, and once everything was properly prepared, Loki scooted forward and lowered himself down Thor's smooth penis.

He sat himself on Thor's hips a moment, letting his body acclimate to the object inside of him. Cracking his eyes open, he saw the look of pleasure on his lover's face. That alone was enough to will him forward. With his legs propped on either side of Thor's hips, he began moving. Up and down, up and down, again and again until his legs pained. Shifting instead to his knees, he was soon assisted by the man beneath him. Thor's hands encapsulated Loki's narrow hips, his own popping up and down with ease. Loki let out a deep, drawn out moan of pleasure. His hands went to Thor's wrists, only for the sake of balance. With Thor's heels digging into the sheets, he continued to thrust upwards, digging in deeper and deeper with every new jump.

"N- _aagh-!_ " Loki shook, his mouth opening wider. Sparks raced down his skin, prickling it in a way only Thor knew how. Eventually, Loki leaned downward, curling over Thor's chest. There, his thick arms wrapped around Loki's middle, securing him in place. It was there that he pushed his feet up farther, and managed to increase his speed.

 _Slap-slap-slap-slap!_ The sounds of their bodies echoed throughout the bedroom, rivaled only by the sound of Loki's voice. His nails dug deeply into Thor's shoulders, almost to the point of breaking skin. Thor didn't so much as flinch. 

However, Loki would get his way for only so long. Feeling himself rising to the point of no return, Thor flipped them about. Now, with Loki trembling beneath him, Thor placed his knees deep within the furs of his bed, and fell into the beautiful indulgence of Loki's body. His slender legs locked tight around Thor's hips, feeling him press further, harder, deeper than ever before. As if he intended to meld them into one whole being.

 _I'd like that_ , came a thought. _To never leave his side. To feel him here. For eternity._

It was such a strange thought. But one Loki felt appropriate. Between the appending disaster of the marrow and the unbridled love he held for this man, Loki found that his pride had no say in this matter - he wanted to be with Thor until the end of his days, no matter the cost.

"Ugh-!" Thor felt himself tightening. As they both were brought to the brink of pleasure, Loki clung to him with all his might. There, tangled in each other's arms, they came to their final climax. While Loki's penis expunged his own seed, his body sucked up all Thor had to offer. Tightening around his manhood, he bleed the Asgardian dry. Drinking every last drop to his fullest.

Thor collapsed against his lover, the two battling for air. By all accounts, that had been a rather short experience, especially with what they'd grown used to. Yet its briefness was not a detriment in Loki's mind. It was perfect.

Bathed in the silver light of the evening, the two fell into sleep, safely encased in each other's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's go somewhere."

Thor, his hands and face sopping, turned over his shoulder at Loki's question. "Go? Where?"

"I... I don't know. Anywhere. And now."

"Can it not wait until tonight?"

"It cannot."

"I see."

With a lighthearted chuckle, Thor returned to his water basin. It was late in the morning, and Thor had awoken to the pleasant sight of Loki curled up beside him. It seemed to him that his lover had returned to their old habits, for which Thor was abundantly grateful. While they slowly woke to the new day's light, Loki made a point of indulging Thor with sentimental attention. They coddled and kissed for what seemed like ages, but in the end, Thor's hunger grew irritable, and the prince left the bed to wash before dressing. Both nude, Loki was laying along the bed, watching Thor with a curious look in his eye. Thor might have pegged it for worry, but what had he to worry about? While they had returned to their life of love and comfort, Loki had still been acting off these past few days. More so now than before. Thor simply chalked it up to that. Grabbing the rag beside his basin, he dried his face and hands.

"And what would we do when we arrive in this unknown place?"

"You mock me," Loki huffed.

"To question is to mock?"

"To pose an idiot's question, yes."

"I see no stupidity in simply asking 'what would you like to do'."

By now, Thor had turned fully to Loki, who had grown silent. He watched intently. Trying to peg the true emotion behind those morose eyes. Hoping to try and bring light once again to the man's face, he sat beside him. Gently, a hand reached up, cradling his cheek. "If you truly wish to travel, I see no harm in it. We will go anywhere you'd like to. But give me at least a day to get ready, yes?"

Rather than brightening Loki's mood, the former Jotun looked even worse off. He shook his head, an inaudible mutter beneath his breath. Thor leaned in, as if to ask what he had said, but Loki did not indulge him. Instead, he stood, taking his dressing gown from the floor. "Nevermind. It matters little."

Thor felt a tug of worry and stood. Approaching from behind, Thor put his hands on Loki's shoulders. "If it troubles you, I dare say it matters far more than you let on."

A pause sat between them. Finally turning, Loki gave Thor a sweet, simple kiss. Perhaps it was his over-thinking of Loki's attitude, but something in that kiss struck Thor. Something was not right. When they broke, Loki patted Thor's chest.

"Do not fret," he said quietly. "Go. You've more than worked up an appetite by now."

"You will not join me?"

Loki appeared to struggle with his answer. When he finally did, he put on a smile, his hands on Thor's own. "I'm afraid my stomach isn't up to task. Please. Enjoy your morning."

Thor wanted to argue further, but was ultimately dismissed. He wanted to make sure Loki got his fill. He had noticed the man was eating less and less these days. Still, he obliged his lover's wishes, lest he incite another argument between them. 

As Thor left the room, that sickening wave of dread returned to Loki tenfold. He sat along the edge of the bed, helpless to combat against it as it overtook him. He could not stop the fate of this day, but he could at least leave Thor worry free until its end. Hands trembling, Loki clasped them tight to his chest, actually feeling sickness waft over him. Alone in the prince's chambers, Loki was content to hope his tears washed away his remorse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor's day had been restful. He spent his hours wandering the market of Asgard, his mind left to its own devices. There were no official tasks that needed doing today. No meetings to be had, no business to focus on. Instead, Thor let the children of the street take precedence. Their games lasted for hours, after which Thor found company with the merchants and venders of his homeland. He had spent an entire day mingling with the people. Enjoying the sunlight as he had in his younger days. Yet things were different now. Once before, he would have kept a blank mind, carefree and jovial until sunset. Now, even with the delight of the day, Thor still thought of Loki.

He intended to give the man time he needed to right himself. Hopefully whatever grieved him would fade away, and they could return to days not so long ago. It did not help matters that Thor was without options to aid him. And thus, thoughts of what might make Loki smile came to the forefront on his mind. Passing stands of fresh game, Thor wondered what Loki would like to eat that night. Smelling the scent of newly picked fruit, he was reminded of Loki's favor to sweets. He must have the kitchens make more tarts. Thousands of them, even! Seeing the fur traders show their finest pelts, Thor imagined commissioning the palace tailor to fasten Loki a robe fit for a king. When the children ran at his side, Thor was reminded of Loki's first true smile, when he played ball for the first time. It seemed that everything formed a connection to his lover in some way or another. That's when he spotted something by the end of the market way. Something that caught his eye. Smile rising, Thor left his gaggle of following children and approached the flower stand just a few yards away.

It was sunset when he arrived back at the palace, his newest purchase in his arms. When he was asked what it was for, he responded only with a smile. His step was with a purpose, his eyes glowing at the prospect. He could imagine only Loki's happy face, those new, green eyes awash with delight. Entering the palace, Thor asked a few guards if they had seen where Loki was. Apparently, he had yet to leave their chambers. This worried Thor, but he made no remark. He only hoped Loki had at least fed himself while he was away.

The door creaked only slightly as Thor poked his head in. There was Loki, sitting along the window sill. His eyes were glued to the sunset, having yet to notice Thor's arrival. Beside him, a tray of food, barely touched. Well... a discussion for another time. Closing the door, Thor approached, his purchase hidden behind his back. "The sunset is lovely today," he remarked.

Loki jumped, pulled from his thoughts quite suddenly. Smile brightening, he held out his hands, causing Loki's gaze to fall to what was in them. A bouquet of lilies, perfect in every way, stared back at him. Fresh, silken, and beautifully white. Loki didn't know what to say. "These are Asgardian water lilies. Do you know how they grow?" Loki shook his head. Putting the set on a nearby table, he plucked one from its stem and tucked it behind Loki's ear. "They are found in dark, watery places. The mouths of caves, the beds of marshes. Places that children fear to venture. One might even find their homes to be treacherous." That hand slid from the flower to the side of Loki's jaw. "But is a place so terrible if it produces such beauty, I wonder? It could be said that one should be thankful for such harsh beginnings. That makes the result all the more precious."

Loki's eyes, well worn from tears by now, threatened to spill more. His lips trembled, and on his tongue were the words he had been dying to say for days now. "Thor..."

"I see you've not eaten much. As expected. Well! As your prince, I hereby decree that we shall feast tonight! I shall even have the kitchens prepare a batch of fruit tarts especially for you."

"...Thor..."

"After supper, we will take a bath. I'll even wash behind your ears, if you'd like-"

"Thor, _please!_ "

Thor paused, his mouth open for his next few words. Only now did he realize that Loki was desperately trying to speak. Shaking uncontrollably, his eyes were shut tight, hands clasped to his chest. "...Tonight..." he began.

"Tonight?"

Loki took a few quivering breaths, steadying himself. "Tonight... tonight - Thor, tonight Asgard is-!"

A bell in the distance cut off his words. Surprised, both looked out the window of Thor's bedroom. Soon after the sound of the warning bell, screams rose up like a breaking wave. Thor lurched forward, now leaning out to find a better view. Citizens were fleeing for their lives. Men, women, children, all crying out in fear as figures broke through the northern gates. Already, homes were set ablaze, stacks of smoke clouding over the once beautiful sky. Loki stayed where he was, realization filling him with agony. He was too late. His father was here.

"We're under attack." Instantly, that kind, gentle Thor had been drawn from the prince, replaced with another, more terrifying man. The man who lead so many to battle. The man who awoke one night, drunk with terror, and nearly strangled Loki in his bed. Shedding his afternoon cloak, Thor grabbed Mjoilnir from its place. "Stay here," he told Loki. "The palace guards will keep you safe." Loki could do little but stare. To reassure him, Thor leaned forward, giving the man a long, well-meaning kiss. "I promise to protect you." The words wounded him, but before Loki could say anything, Thor had left, hammer at his side. All Loki could do was sit and watch as the world around him collapsed.

Down below, the Asgardian soldiers had formed, rushing through the streets to where the intruders had broken the city's gates. Sif and the warriors three lead the defense. "You there! Take the east end! You, the west! The rest, stay close together! We _will_ flush out this threat!" Sif's voice was as commanding as any, and the soldiers that followed took her orders without question. Beside her, Volstagg clutched his axe, a manic smile on his face.

"It's about time!" he thundered. "Life was starting to get boring-!" His words were cut short as an arrow flew past his shoulder blade. Blinking at the near hit, he craned his neck, trying to find the archer. But when he looked upwards -

"TAKE COVER!"

Like a dark cloud, hundreds upon thousands of arrows rose from unknown archers, blocking out the last bits of sunlight. While Volstagg and the others managed to dash behind a building, Sif was caught in the storm. Raising her shield, she crouched down and stayed sturdy during the brunt of the attack. The arrows clanged against it, some managing to scrape by her legs and arms. What didn't connect to her armor sliced off bits of skin, blood splashing from her wounds. When it was over, she was on her feet, ignorant of the pain, and pressed onward. "Before they can fire again! Quickly!" As they rushed through the narrow streets of Asgard, spotting their foes not far off. What they saw came as no surprise, but only did well to invigorate their fury.

Jotuns, brandished in armor and weapons, flooded their streets like a plague. The archers that had fired on them earlier were knocking another round of arrows, which thankfully the Asgardians were ready for. Between the homes of the once peaceful city, the two forces collided. The Jotuns, side by side with the Asgardians, were a good man and a half in size. This did not make the defenses waver. While Sif and Volstagg lead the frontal assault, Fandral and Hogun went off in separate ways. Their quick, meaningful steps danced between each enemy in turn, their steel meeting with Jotun flesh. For as hard and heavy as those obsidian plates of armor were, there were spaces of opportunity beneath arms, around necks, so on and so forth. The two sword masters found every single opening without fail.

Back at the forefront, Sif and Volstagg battled as one. Both the axe and the sword never failed to hit its mark, and the sheer force of the two warriors were enough to take out ten, twenty, thirty enemies before long. Unfortunately, this unity did not last forever. Through pure luck, one of the Jotun spearmen managed to send his weapon deep into Volstagg's shoulder, piercing his armor. Staggering from the sudden nature of the attack, he was rushed by three Jotuns, separating him from Sif in due haste.

Now alone, Sif managed to keep her ground. But she knew it would not last. The troops were scattering. Even with all of the city gathered to protect itself, Sif looked to be very much on her own. She knew what this would mean; even the greatest warriors could be out numbered. Still, she fought fearlessly, taking any and every swing she could. In her heart, she could feel her death at hand. It did not show. Not in her fierce expression, nor in her body's endurance. If she was to die this day, let it be known that she would not do so quietly.

Currently, she battled with another Jotun spearman. His size and length of weapon were a great disadvantage to her, but Sif's speed would not fail her. Back and forth they fought, the spear tip snagging on her arms and face. They were nothing to her. Suddenly, the Jotun made to hit her head, and so she lifted her arms in defense. Instead, the spear scraped the ground, knocking her feet out from under her. She fell hard, tumbling to her hands and knees. Now slick with sweat, blood and dirt, she lifted her head just in time to see the Jotun raise his spear for the final blow -

_Whissssssshzu- CLANG!_

As if a commit had crashed through the air, something slammed good and hard against the Jotun's face, sending it flying a good thirty feet. That strange object retracted, mid-air, and returned from whence it came. A smile came to Sif's face as she stood tall, following its path. With a hand outstretched, Thor recalled his hammer, standing for all to see.

He wore no armor, no protection of any kind. His hair was wild about his face, eyes as fearsome as they had been all that time ago. Just as Mijolnir returned to its master, four Jotuns surrounded Thor immediately. An unguarded, unprotected prince was an easy catch! This was not so. Raising his hammer high, sparks shot from its metal, crashing into all who would attack the Prince of Asgard. Once the threats were dealt with, Thor rushed his way to Sif's side.

"You are injured. How badly?"

"No more than I am used to."

A great battle cry caught their attention. A hoard of Jotuns, weapons at the ready, thundered towards the warriors. Without hesitation, Thor stepped forward and launched his hammer into the crowd of enemies. Drawn to Thor's targets, they banged between bone and armor, knocking the attackers off their feet with ease. By the time the hammer had returned, Thor and Sif were side by side, ready to fight with their lives.

Back at the palace, Loki watched. It didn't seem real to him. As if he was in the midst of a horrible nightmare. How he wished he could awaken! While watching the battle from above, he felt something shift behind his ear. The lily had fallen from his hair, his hand catching it without thought. That simple flower awakened within him a need to move. To do something. Thor was down there, risking his life! But what? What could he possibly do _now_? Loki turned back to the fight, when he noticed something. Something he'd only ever heard of his brothers speak of. For as terrible as the frontal assault was on the city, the army was not nearly as big as it should have been. That was when the memory clicked.

Flower clutched tightly in hand, Loki ran from the room, dressing gown flying out straight behind him. His feet took him down into the main part of the palace, where those who did not fight were being ushered into safer rooms. Loki quickly found a guard.

"Odin!" he cried. "Where is King Odin?!"

"Lord Loki, quickly, you must stay safe with-"

"No, no, I _must_ speak to the king! The lives of everyone in this palace may depend on it!"

"If you have something to say, say it, boy!"

Odin, stepping forward with a quick pace, approached Loki. His expression was livid, as if he knew of Loki's treachery. "Speak quickly, and pray that when this ends, I do not have you confined for the crimes of your people!"

"It's the palace!" Loki blurted out. "The assault on Asgard, my father's men do not intend on taking the kingdom through the front! This is not his full army! They are at the south, waiting-!"

"Waiting for our soldiers to be drawn elsewhere," Odin finished, his eye widening. Turning sharply, he pointed at the guards. "Half of you escort these people to safety! The rest, have the army of Asgard return to the palace! This is to be their target, and we shall protect it by any means necessary!" As they followed their king's orders, Odin grabbed Loki sharply by the arm. "And _you_ shall accompany me." With that, he stormed away, dragging Loki up the stairs towards his chambers. 

When they arrived in Odin's room, the king turned swiftly to the former Jotun, his eye ablaze with fury. "Did you know of this!?" he demanded. Loki could not find the words. "Tell me! Was this your plan?! To murder the citizens of Asgard behind my son's back!? To wait until all who would oppose you were dead and then usurp his crown!?"

"No!" he finally cried. "No, Odin! Please... please you must believe me. I love Thor more than I could possibly say-"

"And how can I believe that?! With Jotuns attacking us from every side!?"

" _Because I would rather die than hurt Thor!_ "

Odin lingered on that response, both men staring at one another, trying to gauge the situation. That's when the sound of chaos grew ever louder. With terror in his eyes, Loki turned to the door, realizing what those noises must mean. The Jotuns had breached the palace walls. Just as Loki predicted. Before he could speak, Odin dashed beside him, throwing Loki towards the enormous drapes near his window.

"Hide!" he hissed.

"But-!"

Odin grabbed the collar of his tunic, teeth bared. " _If you do not mean to hurt Thor, you will do what I say and **hide yourself, fool!** "_

Heart irrational, Loki nodded and dove behind the drapes. There, he cowered, silent as the grave. His eye found a crack in the drapery, watching as Odin took tight hold of his staff, back turned from the hiding ice prince.

As if he himself was a warrior in his prime, Odin stood, facing the door head on. Without warning, a great forced slammed against it. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth, the lock was broken in half, and the old, oak doors split apart. The Jotuns filed in like a great flood, their weapons pointed at Odin, ready to cut the old king down lest he make a move. But they did not strike. For that reward did not belong to them; that was something they all knew. Not long after, the one to claim Odin's life for his trophy made his appearance.

His footfalls were slow. Every new, furthering step made Loki's heart go mad. Who would reveal himself from Odin's broken doorway? Would it be his father? But no... no... something told him that Laufey would not be the one appearing this night. When the Jotun did reveal himself, Loki realized to his horror that he had assumed correctly.

Bjarke Laufeyson. His second eldest brother. He stood tall, his horns curled on either side of him like a ram's. Chains connected his black armor in place, rattling with every slow step. Those red eyes were narrow and sharp, his grin as twisted as the mace on his shoulder. His hair, as long as the spine of his back, was tied into a tail high on his head. That sickness Loki felt earlier had returned to him like a plague. _Not Bjarke_ , came his first thought. _No... why did it have to be Bjarke?_

He laughed, the chain from his nose to his ear jingling in mirth. "The great All King Odin. We meet at last." Bjarke let his mace hang to his side for now, approaching Odin. He stood high above the Asgardian, trying to intimidate the old man. Odin remained as steady as he ever was. "Before we begin, I must tell you what an honor it is that my father has given me this night. Of all his sons, I was deemed worthy enough to kill you."

"Something you shall tell your grandchildren of someday," said Odin calmly.

"Oh yes... ha ha... Yes indeed. But not just stories. They shall sing _ballads_ of this day. The day Asgard fell to the feet of Laufey."

"Strange that ballads will be written about a day that will never happen."

"You think so, wretched fool? What makes you so confidant?" Raising his black mace, Bjarke tilted up Odin's chin in disrespect. "Perhaps you have faith in that presumptuous boy of yours? Oh fear not, fool. My men will dispatch him soon enough."

"You underestimate him."

"Does that confound you?"

"No. It gives me hope." Bjarke's smile fell as Odin's grew. "The more you do so, the easier it will be for Thor to kill you all."

Loki saw his brother's face twist in anger. He knew that expression all too well, and a great fear struck him. And yet, there he remained, helpless as Bjarke raised his weapon high. One fatal swing, and Odin was thrown to the floor. The spikes of Bjarke's mace left his head bloodied and nearly cracked in half. Loki actually put both hands over his mouth to keep any noise from escaping. As he looked on in grief, Bjarke let out a cruel, monstrous laugh. "The all mighty Odin indeed!" he jeered. "Take his body! We shall hang it in the dining hall as decoration!"

Before the Jotun soldiers could comply, a scout rushed to Bjarke's side. "Sir!" he cried. "The soldiers! They are in the palace! Our men are falling by the dozen!"

Bjarke hissed in anger. "Cretins! Why did they not remain by the gates!?"

"They were informed of our strategy, My Lord!"

"How-? Nevermind. It matters not. Their king is dead! Their prince is soon to follow."

"That is just it, Sire. Thor, he - he leads the attack! His hammer is as the legends say. Lightning itself spits from it, Lord Bjarke! Men are dying by his hand more than any other!"

Bjarke considered his options, eyes going between his scout and Odin's corpse. With no time to waste, Bjarke turned sharply. "We are not equipped to handle them here!" he barked. "We retreat for now. Let them mourn for the loss of their idiot king! And while that boy is blinded by grief, we shall strike again!" With that, the Jotuns left.

A strange, hallowed silence fell in their wake. With movements that were not his own, Loki slipped from his hiding place, slowly approaching he body of Odin. Quietly, he bent a knee, a hand hovering near his shoulder. Almost as though he feared to touch him. Just as his fingers were within an inch of his shoulder, Odin's form shook, a cough escaping him. Did Odin live? A thrill shot up Loki as he clutched Odin close to him, rolling him onto his back. The damage of his brother's mace was gruesome, some holes deep enough to see bone. Odin's one eye was bloodshot, red caking his old, wrinkled face. He did live, but not for much longer.

"...Th-Thor..." he coughed out. "Be kind... be kind to him. Be good to my boy..."

Just like that, his last, dwindling flame of life was gone.

Loki felt so cold, holding the dead body of the king. It was so alien. Could he trust this as truth? Could he truly believe his own eyes? Slowly, he laid the king back to the floor, flat on his back. With a gentle finger, he closed his remaining eye, letting him finally rest in peace. Loki sat there for some time later, deaf to the eventual sound of cheering. It was footsteps, in the end, that brought him back to reality.

"Father!" cried the joyful voice of Thor. "They have retreated! We have-!"

Loki looked up just as his lover entered the room. Just enough time to see that bright, gleeful face turn to ash. Sweaty, bruised and beaten, Thor let his hammer fall to the floor. His knees were weak, his eyes glued to the sight of Odin dead on the ground. No true words could describe the heartbreak on his face. Rushing forward, he fell to his knees across from Loki, hands shaking worse than he had ever seen. "F-Father... Father, no... no, no, no, no..." Those big arms seemed so weak now as he scooped up the lifeless form of Odin, bringing him in close. Ignoring the blood, Thor clutched the man's face, as if trying to pat it awake. "Father... Father please..." Tears had formed beneath his lashes. Bringing Odin to his breast, Thor curled forward, his face digging deeply into Odin's shaggy hair. " _Please not you too..._ "

There, holding the body of his dead father, Thor wept. His tears were silent and telling, body slowly rocking back and forth. Loki was speechless, watching the horrid scene unfold before him. It struck him only now that his mother had been lost in the exact way as his father. Did Thor cry like this as well? Did he hold her? Did he plead? Beg her not to go? As painful as the scene was for Loki, it must have been unbearable for Thor. Knowing nothing else to do, Loki moved around and clutched Thor from behind. It took a few moments, but before long, Thor turned to the comfort of his partner. It was all he had left.

"This is my fault." Thor's next words came as a shock. Loki pulled away, watching Thor's face fall to pieces. "This is all my fault... I should have been here. Here, at the palace! My place is - is here..."

"No. No, no, no..." Loki held him close, hands tight against Thor's shoulders. Their foreheads pressed together. "Thor this is not-" His words choked. Sitting there, in front of the damage his brother had caused, Loki knew that he could not keep silent any longer. He swallowed. "This is not your fault, my love.

"It is mine."

His tears having stopped, Thor pulled from Loki's grasp just enough, confusion in his eyes. "I... no, Loki, do not blame yourself. You could not have known."

"I did." He spoke the words before he realized it. "I did know. I have known. And I... I said... nothing."

Thor was silent. A minute. Two. He did not seem capable of comprehending what had just been said. His mouth opened and closed silently, waiting for Loki to deny the truth. Waiting for the joke. For the explanation. None came. Standing, Thor took two steps back, distancing himself from Loki, who stood as well.

"Please, Thor, understand. When I was told of this- I took no part in planning it! A messenger approached me, told me that I was to escape this night. I could not leave you, don't you see? I could not-"

Thor turned away. Nausea hit him and he braced himself against the wall, battling for air. Loki flew into a panic. "You do not know my father!" he cried. "If he knew I breathed a word of any of this, he would-!"

"He would what?"

Loki's throat was dry. Slowly, Thor turned. In his eyes held the look of a madman, with no choice but to face the ugly truth. "What? What would he do to you within these walls? Why did you not _tell_ me, Loki? _Why did you remain so silent!?_ " Flying into a rage, Thor grabbed Loki's arm, tight enough to cut off the blood, and began to scream. " _Did you think we were not strong enough?! That **I** was not enough to protect you!? Do you find me so weak, Loki?!_ "

Loki would have collapsed if Thor had not been holding him so tightly. "I was frightened!" he blurted out. "My father, he has his ways! He would have sought me out! He would have-!"

" ** _NO!_** " Loki was thrown to the floor, Thor enraged above him. " _Do not pretend as though you acted out of fear! This was the result of your **selfishness**! Your unwillingness to put others before yourself!_ " Thor took a deep, steadying breath. He still quivered with anger, tears still filled his eyes, but his screams had died down. Jaw tight, he continued to speak. "I have come to learn the truth about you," he growled. "How narrow your sight really is. For no one lives in Loki's world but Loki. I see that now."

Collapsed on the floor, Loki was unable to control his sobbing. "I had no choice!" he cried.

"You have _always_ had a choice!" Thor thundered. "And through your vanity and your negligence, you have chosen to let people _die_! Innocent people, Loki! People who your father's men slaughtered in the streets like animals! People..." His eyes drifted to the body of Odin. His heart gave a painful throb. "You have allowed your father's men to take from me the last bit of family that I have. And now I am alone."

In one last ditch effort, Loki stood and ran to Thor. He clutched his arm tightly, pleading to be heard. "Let me make amends!" he begged. "Let me prove to you that I am not like them-!" Thor yanked his arm straight out of Loki's hands, turning from him.

"You are _exactly_ like them. Cold. Cruel. Unfeeling. And I will never forgive you."

Loki was struck. Soundless, he stood, his hands still hovering before him. What Hell had he allowed himself to fall into? What nightmare could he not awaken from? For Thor spoke only the truth, and Loki knew this. There was no apology, no recompense he could use to convince either of them otherwise. Loki had allowed Laufey to attack. He had _allowed_ Asgard to be abject to slaughter. And in doing so, he had allowed Thor to be hurt in a way he could never imagine.

Turning from him, Thor once more knelt beside his father. Gently, he folded Odin's hands along his chest, his own covering them both in one final goodbye. They were silent for some time, neither one daring to speak first. Until Thor decided otherwise.

"Leave." He refused to look at him. "Leave Asgard tonight. I care not where you go. But if I ever see you again... I will kill you."

Loki could do nothing at first. Winded by such a statement, he was frozen where he stood. But then, slowly, his feet began to move on their own accord. At first, he began walking down the steps. Walking quickly became sprinting, which quickly became running. Before long, he was running blindly through the palace, his only destination to be as far away from Asgard as possible. He passed by servants and soldiers and scholars alike, never stopping. The more he ran, the more he could try and convince himself that he could leave his sins behind him. But this was not so. For the blood on his hands was eternal. It stained him, deeply, and would remain on his conscious for the rest of his miserable life.

Before he realized it, he had found himself on the southern side of Asgard, running along the beaches. With the moon now high, the silvery light guided him forward. He ran until his legs gave out, and down he tumbled into the white sand. Still and silent, he laid there, his throbbing body as heavy as lead. There, he screamed into the sand, slamming his fists against it. Everything he had grown to love had been taken from him. Crumbled away like the sand that he now yelled into. This was now the first time in his entire life that he ever truly felt the want to die.

"My Lord Prince?"

Slowly, Loki looked up. A Jotun stood before him. Without knowing it, Loki had stumbled upon a small boarding crew of the Jotun army. Boats lay at the ready, having been used to sneak up to the palace in the first place. The Jotun that addressed him was no solider. He wore the garb of a servant, and on him carried the bags of a squire. That's when Loki thought: how was he recognized? In this skin, he would seem as an Asgardian. But his question was answered as the Jotun bent down to help him to his feet.

"I am sure you do not recognize me, M'Lord. I am Carr, the messenger." He smiled. "We were worried you would not be out in time!"

Loki said nothing. Out of one hazy dream and into another. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to the palace. Back to the place that had become his home. His soul longed to return. Back to that morning, where he and Thor had still been lovers. Where Asgard had been untouched. Back to the lie that had kept him happy for so long.

Without a word, Loki turned his back on Asgard and followed Carr to the boats.


	19. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quietly dedicated to thorkizilla of Tumblr, who still gets me excited to write Thorki, and helped inspire me for this little dive into world building~ 
> 
> Also, sorry I haven't updated in a little while. I've been busy.

Nearer and nearer the mountains of Jotunheim grew, as if growing in size themselves. As Loki approached his homeland of ice, he saw the sky became darker. Clouds of eternal frost hung in the air, blocking the sun's warm mercy. Beneath his cart, Loki could feel the gravel off-set its wooden wheels, the journey uncomfortably shaky from here on in. Eventually, the mountains were so close, Loki could not see the sky beyond. At the moment, the youngest prince of the northern mountains stared out the window of his carriage, curtains pulled to look ahead. They were a small caravan, most of the Jotuns who had fled did so in small bursts to avoid Asgardians following them. Loki wouldn't doubt if even the infamous Heimdal could find them all. But Loki did not worry about being caught. In all honesty, he might actually prefer it. No, his real fear lay with his destination, rather than his starting point. And as the details of home became clearer, so did the wrenching in his gut. The mourning felt by Loki in leaving Asgard stayed with him only for the first two days of their travels. On the third, when the bright colors of the sea were traded in for the steely pallet of the mountains, his melancholy was also replaced. Fear. Fear and trepidation at the inevitable meeting with his father. While no one outside of Asgardian walls knew of his love affair with Thor, Loki's change in skin was enough to single him out among his own people. And his father? His father would be the brunt of his isolation.

His father was not a kind man. Nor was he an understanding one. What would he do, seeing his son so changed? In truth, Loki was never beaten by Laufey, but he feared him. He feared his ever-present, unyielding stare. Feared the deep tremor in his voice, whenever something displeased him. Feared the disgust and the disappointment that would sit, unspoken, with every breath. Yes, he had never beaten Loki. But he could very easily kill him.

The cart wound its way up the roads into the first village of Gren, which sat at the base of the mountain side. A farmer's villa, quiet and humble. Loki's eyes swept through the hilly landscape, lingering on the buildings within. Most were ramshackle, held together by patchwork and an assortment of metals. On the ground was a layer of brown slush, the once powder snow crushed to sleet by so many footsteps. Beyond the village square sat the fields of frostmais. Already the blue stocks were rising from the hard earth, promising a bountiful harvest in the seasons to come. Fur covered sows with protruding tusks lingered lazily in their pens. A few bare footed children lingered on the edge of their fences, prodding the fat animals with sticks. The smells of cooking meats were not far off, a few fire pitches roaring beneath skewered roasts and bubbling stews. Beside them, the freshly tanned hides and furs of their kills hung to dry. All his life Loki had scorned the simple people below his castle as below him. Uncultured, stupid, and hardly worth a thought. Now, Loki envied them for their freedoms, and pitied them for what a future of war would hold.

"Isn't it good to be home, Your Majesty?"

Ah yes. Loki had forgotten that he had company in his quiet carriage. Frowning lightly, he closed the shades and let his head rest on the back of the seat. He hoped that by closing his eyes, Carr would understand that he'd rather not be spoken to. Alas, this was not the case. The Jotun, who sat in Loki's carriage in case any needs of the prince arose, tapped his knees with delight. Now that Loki was able to give him a good once-over, Carr was revealed to have a bit of a pudge around his middle. His horns were short, barely peaking out from his forehead. His hair was thinning, receding from his brow in great haste. He was also rather short; Loki was not the only Frost Giant who garnered the name with irony. "I can't imagine how you stood that insufferable brightness, Highness. On top of that, if the sun wasn't bad enough, it was the _heat_ of it all! Gods above I'd never sweat so much in my life!"

"One gets used to the weather," came his lackluster response.

"Ah yes, but at what price? It's horrid, I say, _horrid!_ Though perhaps it was not the worst of it. One can only imagine the smell-"

"Surprisingly, they take very frequent baths."

Loki's answer came out sharper than intended. Carr took notice, much to his dismay. "Ah... of course. But still, one who spends such time in sunlight is bound to sweat. It must be difficult to constantly wash it away without _some_ reminisce of -"

"Carr?"

"Yes?"

"How long were you in Asgard?"

"Erm... well uh... a day?"

"And in that day, were you able to observe every aspect of the culture?"

Carr blinked at the question, surprised by it. "I... well, no, My Lord."

Lifting his head, Loki stared at the servant with a sharp gaze. "I wise man never speaks of what he does not fully understand."

The messenger flinched. "Wha-? Have I - have I offended Your Majesty...?"

"Yes."

"I-? I have?"

"Your very voice is offensive to me. In fact, I rather find every fat ounce of you offensive. If I look upon you for another second, I fear I may grow ill." Carr was speechless at that, but what happened next threatened to make him completely mute. Loki, drawing back the curtain, leaned his head out. "Stop us!" he demanded. When the cart came to a halt, Loki swung open his door, and - without a shred of decency - quite literally kicked Carr from his presence. After which, Loki slammed the door shut, the curtain drawn tightly. With two hits to the ceiling, the cart was off again. Carr would be forced to walk the rest of the trek towards Laufey's palace.

Now alone, Loki was free to dread in peace.

It took a good four hours before they reached the gates of Loki's family home. Cracking open the curtain, he stared up at the looming structures before him. The palace of his family was an ancient thing, built in the Time Before Kings. While both kingdoms were alike in stature, the castles of Asgard and Jotunheim were contradictory as night and day. For one thing, Jotunheim's had a name; Hrœzla Fjalltindr. Favor of the mountains. Expanding from the wide girth of the southern doors, Hrœzla expanded outward like moss on limestone. The castle was embedded firmly in the mountain side, the peeks around it encircling the old architecture into a safe, impenetrable bubble. Four towers hovered high above the ground, their spiral peeks rising to different levels, making them seem as organic as the hillsides themselves. The oddly shaped bricks fit against one another in a curious, puzzle like way. No stone was the same size, cut, or in some cases the stone itself, was identical. Blotches of dark and lighter grays spotted the sides like bits of rainwater. Above the door, an archway sat, designs and tongues of the old days carved within its reach. The roof tops were of thin, stone sheets, layered upon one another as a coat of dragon scales. There were no open corridors. Air did not flow freely from place to place. No life, no joy breathed from Hrœzla's gates. It remained as a sleeping beast, mocking Loki's pain and inevitable consequence.

When the cart came to a halt, Loki was escorted to the front gates. Palace guards watched from the shadows, no doubt questioning if this light skinned face belonged to their youngest prince. Loki focused only on the path ahead, but it was not to say their gazes left him unaffected. Deep in his stomach was a roiling, sickening anger at their stares. It was his first day in Asgard repeated, yet the embarrassment was tenfold from then. When he stepped into the sunlight for the first time, Loki did so with ignorance. Ignorance of his father's plan, of the love and comfort he would soon find in such a strange place. Now, as so many familiar faces looked upon him, Loki was burdened with knowing. As he walked along the frosted steps towards the ancient doors, Loki knew that the man he once called lover suffered in a way that he could not imagine. He knew that those who began to trust him were now taking up arms. Readying for war. And he knew, most of all, that within these walls, awaited the judgement of his father. 

The guards opened the old oak doors, and in walked the fourth prince of Jotunheim. A few servants bowed, but he could see the whispers on their lips, not yet spoken. Perhaps his father would lock Loki away, lest he be shamed by the sight of him now? 

"His Majesty the King awaits you, My Prince." A servant bowed low before turning to open the doors to the great hall.

Before Loki could advance, Carr popped up beside him. The annoying fly you simply couldn't swat away. "While you adhere to your father's call," he asked, "might I get you something? Food? Drink?"

"An apple."

"An apple, Highness?"

"So that I may stuff your jaw closed, pig." The smile fell from Carr's face. "Leave me until I've need of you."

That seemed to get the message across. Bowing out, Carr left Loki's side, and the ice prince took a deep, calming breath. If he was to survive this encounter, he would need to be as steady as possible. With a nod, he stepped inside. The grand hall was vast and wide, torches and a fire pit to keep it lit. Where the rest of Hœzla was devoid of vibrancy, rooms dedicated to royal use did not suffer such a fate. Crystal, twinkling in the blue firelight as ice itself, wound its way along the pillars in beautiful, swirling patterns. Silver detail were carved deep within the stone walls and floors. Chandeliers hung down from the high ceiling. The light that bounced from its crystals painted the room with flakes of fallen light. And in the center of this grand room, lay a table, carved masterfully to match the somber beauty of its surroundings. The faces of his family awaited him at that table.

"And the prodigal son has returned!" The ever irritatingly loud voice of Bjarke echoed throughout the room. He, along with Loki's two other brothers, was currently devouring half a slow roasted pheasant. "And here we thought the Asgardians had made an example of you. Pity." The familiar mace used to end Odin's life lay loyally at his side. Across from him, two others sat, staring at their youngest sibling.

"So it's true then." The be-speckled eyes of Loki's older brother - Frey - landed on his face. He was tall, like Bjarke, but did not hold such a powerful structure as his younger brother. His hair was braided only to his shoulders, with two miniature braids drooping down from either side of his face. Gold was weaved throughout the knots of his hair. His horns were slender, curving back above his crown as if the wind itself was pushing them so. Golden chains laced them, matching the slight, thin wire frame of the glasses on his long nose. While Bjarke seemed most comfortable in haphazard, roguish cloth, Frey adorned the robe of a king, its silken fabric a muted, greyed out purple. "I did not think it possible to erase heritage from a person's face. At least not for long."

"Perhaps brother Loki is seeking attention." The slithering, hissing voice belonged to the last of the three brothers, Jari. While Bjarke and Frey were normal sized for Jotuns, Jari was closer to Loki's height, both having inherited the trait from their mother. He was angular in shape, his horns short, stubby and jagged. Silver clasps were fastened at their bases. Behind them, his dark hair was bunned tightly behind his head. Jari wore no tunic, a pair of trousers tied to his waist. They synched along his hips, widening until coming to his ankles. He and Loki, as the two youngest, garnered the reputation for trickery. But while Loki relied on magics and illusion to aide him, Jari was far more at ease slinking about in the shadows. A skill complimenting both his size, and his preferred method of attack - archery. Leaning in on his pointed elbows, his narrow face turned to Frey, a malicious grin on his lips. "Perhaps he was feeling abandoned by us? It is not unusual for him to act out in order to garner our gazes. As if he was ever worthy of them in the first place-"

"My change was not of my doing." Loki's voice was calm, but firm enough to catch their attention. "You would know this if you had thought to simply ask rather than squawking about with your own conspiracies."

"That will be all from you."

Loki's heart nearly gave way at that voice. With a trembling constitution, Loki turned to see the Jotun directly across from the stone table, sitting at the head of it. Placed in a throne of stone and fur, his seat was high above the rest, so that he might observe all before him with great ease. From the shadow of his brow, two red eyes pierced, as if projecting their own light. Laufey was a sight to beheld. On his person sat a fine tailored robe, a cloak of deep silver draping from his shoulders. His sleeves cut off at his elbows, gauntlets of steel protecting his wrists. From those gauntlets, chains of silver attached themselves to the base of each finger. His nails were sharpened, like the claws of a cat. On his right thumb he wore a covering piece of metal, fashioned to be just that. While he had no hair, he did have horns. Short ones, thick and rounded. A silver crown, swirling like strands of twine, interwove within itself, circling around the back of Laufey's head, and ending before his ears. As he spoke, his voice was as quiet as the rumblings of an earthquake. It also carried its resonance.

"You were instructed to await my armies, and yet you did not. Rather than going to the farmlands, you fled to the sea. For what purpose? To drown yourself?" Loki said nothing, unable to turn from those deadly, crimson eyes. "Those soldiers risked their lives waiting for you. It took a day for word to reach them that you had gone on with another group." Again, Loki said nothing. "I see. My son, famed for his quick wit, is silent as the grave. Perhaps you _have_ changed, Loki."

"Surely there must be a way to reverse this," Frey suggested, fingers laced against the table. "A potion, a remedy-"

"There is none."

"Are you certain?"

"I've tried."

Bjarke snorted, sucking off a strand of meet from a wing bone. "And here we thought you could not get uglier, little brother. It may be kinder to let us tare that burden from your face."

"Silence." Laufey stood from his seat, robe falling to his feet. "Now that I know for certain that you are alive, it would behoove you to retire to your chambers. Food will be brought up at your request. When you are finished, I will see you privately in mine." Laufey's final words ended the conversation dead. The room remained still until the King of Jotunheim vanished from sight. Bjarke chuckled darkly.

"Welcome home, _baby brother._ "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air seemed colder this night. The sky was clear, and the stars winked quietly above the kingdom of Asgard. And while such beautiful structures such as the palace still stood, there was no sense of bliss or peace, as there had been just days before. Even with all the clean up, all the work and all the fixing to be done, there was a state of unrest among the city. No smiles were seen on the townsfolk, no cheer was felt between friends. For the king was dead. Now, his sole heir would take the crown in earnest, and lead the land's finest men and women into war - again. But for now, Thor's crowning would wait. For tonight, a different ceremony would be held. The final goodbye of the All King, Odin.

His body was laid along a pyre, dressed in its finest armor. His staff, which stayed by his side for so long, rested with him. His hands flat on its grip, he seemed peaceful. As if sleeping himself. The wooden bed below him was built within a boat, carved and decorated with the words of Thor's ancestors. It would be this boat that ferried the king to his life beyond life. Where he would become one with the world around him, living and breathing with the wind, and the waves of the ocean. Children of Asgard approached his floating casket with gifts of flowers and toys, all gently laying them in the boat. Thor stood, somber, as he watched such little faces pass him one by one. Beyond the grief felt for the loss of his only other parent, Thor was torn by the sight. For it was not long ago that they had said goodbye to another this way. Yet in a way, there was a spark of consolation. For now, Odin would finally be with the woman he loved so dearly again.

"That should be the last of the children." Sif's voice was soft. Understanding. Beside Thor, she and the others stood, their eyes fixated on Odin's corpse. "We should send him off now. Else we never will."

Thor nodded, but said nothing. Leaning down, both Fandral and Volstagg slowly pushed the boat from Asgard's docks. The prince watched the further and further away his father got. With a heavy heart, Sif took a bow and arrow in her hands, offering them to Thor. For the first time that night, he tore his eyes away, now staring at the weapon. Sadly, he shook his head. "I've no talent for the bow," he said quietly.

Sif's expression was pained, but she nodded. Turning, the arrow's tip was placed into the torch closest to her. Pausing, she observed the wind before knocking the arrow to her lips. With a tilt of her arms, the arrow was launched up. Like a comet it flew, bright and brilliant against the black of night. It dove down, its flame still firm, before striking Odin's boat. A moment of silence passed as the crowd watched the boat catch fire. A few cried. A few embraced. None spoke. Thor watched his father's flame on the water as if it was the last of a dying sun. In some ways, it was. Odin's death was not simply the death of his father. It was the death of Thor. Of his life as a soldier, and as a prince. It was the death of his freedoms, and his blithe fantasies. Now, in this time of war and strife, Thor would have no peace to himself. If he was to be king, he could think only of the people he now protected.

"They will pay for this," Volstagg growled beside his soon to be king. Against the gentle flickering of torchlight, tears could be seen in his eyes. "I swear to you, we will _make_ them pay, Thor."

"If it is war the Jotuns want, we shall follow your lead until Ragnorok, my friend." Fandral's hand came down on Thor's shoulder, squeezing it.

"Do not think you are alone," said Hogun. "The people of Vanaheim will fight by your side." _  
_

Thor breathed softly, letting his eyes close. From the sea, a gentle breeze picked up the ends of his hair. A small relief in a world of turmoil. "You pledge such allegiances," came his quiet words. "I can only hope I will be a king worthy of your loyalty."

No answer came immediately. That is, until fingertips touched the exposed skin of his arm. When Thor turned, Sif had put on a timid, empathetic smile. "You do not need a crown to be worthy of us... My King." Then, hand removing itself, Sif bent a knee before her. Her fist came to rest above her heart, her eyes as hard as steel. Her intentions were clear - she would be willing and ready to fight to her death.

Beside her, Volstagg did the same. As did Fandral and Hogun. Behind them, the soldiers of Asgard followed suit. Soon, the citizens of Thor's kingdom all took a knee. Like a ripple effect, the crowds beyond those along the shoreline began to bow as one. Before long, every single man, woman and child put their trust in the man before them.

Within such a day of sadness, Thor felt the smallest ember of gratitude. All the pain he had suffered, the loss, the betrayal... It would be righted, he realized, should he do good by his people. With his head held high, he found a new purpose in life. He would lead Asgard into an age of peace, or die trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki stood at the door of his father's chambers for gods only knew how long. With a tremor in his heart, he could only imagine what Laufey had to say to him that he could not among his brothers. His father's bedroom had always been daunting, ever since he was little. The doors to his quarters were a pitch black, the markings and carving on the obsidian barely legible unless you were beside it. Not even the blue torches on either side of them did the engravings justice. Taking a long, calming breath (which did not do what it was meant to), Loki knocked.

"It is open."

Loki's throat was dry. He tried swallowing, but to no avail. Slowly, those great doors were pushed open, and Loki stepped inside. Automatically, he closed them in his wake. A habit drilled into him when he was a child.

Laufey's room was not as grand as the chambers of a king might have been. His bed was regal, with four posts and a feather mattress. A suit of armor rested by a window, now closed. Across the room sat a wide desk. On it, maps and battle plans were laid along its surface. Pins were placed in specific sections. There was a small horror in Loki's stomach as he realized the map was of Asgard.

"In."

Laufey's one-word command brought Loki inside further. His father, for the time being, was sitting in a cushioned chair beside his book case. He red with swift, unstopping eyes, even for Loki's presence. He allowed his son to agonize in silence until he had finished his current page, and then closed the book thereafter.

"You look healthy." Loki had no reaction for such a statement, and so Laufey continued. "How are you feeling?"

A sense of caution fell over the young prince. Laufey was not a man of meager conversation. This supposed check of his well being had an ulterior motive. Loki was wise to step carefully. "I am not ill. Nor wounded."

"Mm." Laufey set his book aside before standing fully before his son. Loki's head barely reached the bottom of Laufey's pectoral. "This is good to know. I can only assume then that you were treated kindly on your holiday." Those words sunk in like venom. Loki's hands tightened behind his back, but he said nothing. "For you did, indeed, enjoy yourself in Asgard, correct? Or am I mistaken?"

Loki felt his heart increase in speed. With quivering lips, he found it within him to speak. "Enjoy...? You sent me there to be a servant. A slave!"

"From what my men tell me, you were less a slave and more a favored house pet."

Within him, panic rose. Did Laufey have spies in the city of Asgard? Flashes of his time with Thor flew by like mad. What had been reported to Laufey? What had been _seen_? And what would be his punishment for such relations? But of these questions, Laufey answered none of them. Realizing he would not continue unless given an explanation, Loki regained his voice. "I did nothing of which I was not told to do." He quickly controlled his tenor, as his words nearly cracked in his throat. "I was given orders day after day to - to appease the man _you_ sent me to serve! I had no choice in the matter!"

"Is this the truth?"

"It is!"

Laufey hesitated. The silence between them might as well have lasted for eons. Fear dwelled within Loki. Would he be found out? Would his lie be unmasked? And if so, would he suffer the same fate as any sinner found guilty in their courts? He imagined himself, strung up high and tortured for his transgressions. Body parts taken from him. Wounds sealed with white hot pokers. And then, eventually, a slow, agonizing death. But to his unbridled relief, Laufey turned from him.

"Good." Loki nearly gasped, reminding himself to breathe. "It is with that excuse that I absolve you from the reports I was given, then. Know that I do this only out of the grace of my heart."

Grace. Of course. "Yes, Father," came Loki's immediate response. "Know that I never once-"

"Be thankful I do not do as my conscious demands," Laufey continued. "For you had broken so many of our laws, if my sources are to be believed. So. Many." Loki's words died before reaching his tongue. Standing before his leering father, Loki felt as small as a child. Unable to say a word in his defense. Laufey moved in close, looming over his youngest like the great mountain itself. "From what I have been told, were you one of another name, I would not hesitate to end your life as penance. Do you understand me?" Slowly, Loki nodded. "Then you will do well to keep the sins of your past in your _past_. No one need know the heathen path my son has strayed to."

"O-of course." Loki's words were barely a whisper.

"And I _trust_ -" Laufey had lowered his head, his gaze daring Loki to look away. "-that those habits of yours have since died out. Am I correct?"

Loki was so entrapped by fear that even breathing caused him pain. Weak and helpless, he stared up at the man who lorded over him, those terrors blooming anew. "Yes," he finally managed. "Completely."

Laufey nodded. Without a word, he turned back to his sofa and book, silently dismissing his son. Loki took the opportunity the minute it arose. Turning, he walked swiftly out of the room, and into the hall. There, his feet picked up speed, and he began running. Spying a staircase, Loki rushed up, up, up to the tower above his father's bedroom. When he had no more stairs to climb, Loki looked around where he had landed. A small aviary for carrier pigeons. A few had nestled in for sleep. Loki found a great longing within him as he stared out of the window. Oh what he wouldn't give for wings to take him far away from this place. He did not even long to return to Thor's side. Simply, he wanted an escape. A way to leave this horrible world for another. With no more energy within him, Loki crumpled to the floor, curled up beneath the window ledge. After everything that had happened, after his life in Asgard, and his return home, Loki felt a prisoner now more than ever.


	20. In Motion

"Do you vow to relinquish all selfish desires, to protect and serve the people of your kingdom and its allies until your dying breath?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to keep the interests of the people before your own? To act only for the good of the masses?"

"I swear."

"And should you be unable to preform your duties with honor and integrity, do you swear to relinquish your power to one more deserving, as chosen by a council of Asgard?"

"I swear."

The man standing in front of Thor let his head lower only slightly. His skin was dark, the armor worn for such a ceremony gold and flawless. Between his hands he held a broadsword, pointed downward and noble before him. His eyes, crowned by the opening of his bright helmet, were a curious, honey color. Thor knew those eyes all too well. This was Heimdal, the blind oracle of Asgard. Soft spoken and wise, there was not a word that passed Heimdal's lips that Thor doubted. Even in his younger years, with the spirit of a rebel in his wild personality, Thor was hard pressed to ever remember a time when he took Heimdal for granted. When his father was alive, it was he who acted as his wisest confidant during war times. Once the treaty had been signed, he returned to his life of serenity, passing down the lessons of the gods. Now, with such turmoil returning to the horizon, it seemed he and Thor would become reacquainted very quickly.

Setting the sword aside, Heimdal turned, hand immediately going to the crown, which sat waiting for its proper place on Thor's brow. It was a simple band of gold, the edges flaked with silver. Without turning his head, Heimdal stepped forward, Thor having been kneeling this entire time. With the crown above him, Heimdal raised his voice.

"It is with no hesitance and great pride that I crown you, Thor Odinson, as Asgard's rightful king. On this day, until your dying day." The crown lowered, soon fitting perfectly around his head. As snugly as it sat, the crown felt alien. As though it did not belong there. The metal was cold, making his scalp twitch beneath it. He no more felt a king than he had moments ago. But he could not allow his self doubt to ruin him. Standing, Thor turned, his cloak dragging behind him as he did so. A grand applause came from the onlookers, including his closest friends. His hand raised in acceptance, silently thanking his people for their loyalty. Music played, but there was no sense of celebration. Even with the ceremony, the looming presence of battle hung above them like a daunting cloud. Thor himself did not feel right joining the festivities. Instead, he left the alter of the grand hall, followed by those closest to him, and into a small, sectioned off room where a strategy table sat. Sif and the others stood around it as Thor removed his crown, tossing it to a nearby shelf with little care.

"What word?" he asked immediately.

"No Jotuns have been seen since their retreat from Asgard," Fandral informed him. "My best scouts are scouring the country side, but our only guess is that they've returned to their homeland."

"No doubt drumming up an even bigger army," Volstagg growled. "Speaking of which, our troops should be ready by the end of this week."

"And we can recuperate after the attack?"

"Aye. We lost a number of good soldiers that day. But it has not crippled us."

Hands on the table, he stared at the maps of their region and the kingdoms beyond. He had been studying the map for days now. Memorizing every river, every possible vantage point the Jotuns might have on them. This was, however, unneeded. Thor could still remember every battle ground from before with excruciating detail. No doubt he'd be revisiting those Hellish landscapes before long. 

"What is our plan?" Sif asked. "Do we go for the northern mountains? Attack them at their heart?"

"The northern mountains are filled with villages. Should we attack their home, too many innocent lives would be lost."

Volstagg's brow drew tight. "Don't see why that should stay our hand. After all, that didn't stop them from killing _your_ people, if you recall-"

"Do _not_ mistake my caution as uncaring, Volstagg." Thor's voice was sharp and guarded, hands pressing down on the table. "No one feels the weight of their actions more than I. But that does not give us an excuse to slaughter innocent people."

Volstagg had an argument on the tip of his tongue, but Fandral quickly put a hand to his arm. It was best, after all, not to tempt Thor's anger these days. After his father's funeral, the man was had not been as approachable as he once was. He had been secluded from his peers, wrapped up in plans for war and battle. He did not smile as he once did. His voice did not carry the sunshine previously felt by all. He was, by all accounts, shut off from the rest of the world. His eyes having yet to remove themselves from the map, he spoke again. "Heimdal. You were my father's council in the last great war. What are your thoughts?"

The blind man was silent a moment. With his eyes closing, he laced his fingers together. It was often said that the oracle had traded one way of sight for another. Hence the importance of his words. After a moment of thought, they opened again, staring into nothingness. "Waiting for Laufey is not an option. Nor is attacking the innocent or the mountains themselves. Our armies would not withstand the elements.

"But they are not impenetrable. A boarder should be set. One of men and women with steel at their sides. When the Jotuns arrive to fight, the soldiers of Vanaheim will add to the battle, and thus push the forces back."

"It was no easy task the last time," Volstagg pointed out. "With Odin gone, I cannot help but think they have an advantage."

"They will not breech us again," Thor said firmly. "And if they do, I would see Asgard fall in flames before we allow them power over us." No one spoke after such a statement. Lifting his head, Thor focused on Volstagg. "Lieutenant." The warrior straightened instantly. "Send word to Hogun of this plan. Tomorrow at dawn, take what soldiers that are able to set up the barrier." With slight hesitation, Volstagg bowed out of the conversation, returning to the palace. "Fandral, you will go to Vanaheim and lead beside Hogun into battle. You are all dismissed." With that being the end of it, the others began to file from the room in silence. Sif, having turned from her place, made to follow suit. But Thor stopped her. "Sif. Hold a moment." He waited until the two were alone, the door closed securely behind the retreating warriors. He did not speak immediately, and instead went to the side table where a decanter of wine had been set aside for him. Thor poured a goblet and held it up to her in offering. She politely refused, allowing him to drink it instead.

"Do you have some secret matters with me, My King?" Sif inquired.

"Aye." Refilling his goblet, he returned to the table, fingers touching the withered paper upon it. "Do you remember what my father asked you that time ago? Before the festival."

"How could I forget? His question had been so bold- Yes, I recall. He had asked why we had never considered marriage."

Thor nodded, once more drinking from his wine. "I ask you now to reconsider your answer."

That had Sif's eyes grow wide. "Majesty...?"

"I am king now. As such, I must think of my people, and their needs. A king may only be as strong as the queen he takes by his side. Or king. But a man cannot give me an heir to rule in the event of my death. Beyond that, I have no chosen successor." He spoke calmly, but his words were heavy. Once, she might have been excited, perhaps even overjoyed at the prospect. Now, an inkling of doubt began to grow within her the longer Thor spoke. "You would make a fine queen, Sif. You know this as well as I. Your strength is beyond honors, and is one of your many traits I have admired in you."

"Your admiration is appreciated, of course," Sif began. "But Thor... I feel like I have no words to answer you."

"None at all? Why is that? Does your tongue grow heavy or your heart, My Lady?"

"Both, I am afraid. You admire me. My strength. My will. Perhaps even my body. But the love you hold for me is not the love of a husband to his wife. I know that better than most."

Thor huffed, leaning against the table. His thick arms folded firmly across his chest. "In our time as lovers, have I ever treated you unkindly? Were you ever dissatisfied with me? In one way or another?"

"Of course not - "

"Then I see no issue." Pushing himself from the table, he once more took ahold of his wine glass. "When the time is right, we shall be wed. We shall give our people hope where there is darkness. And when you carry my child, they will look upon them with a new eye. This is what Asgard needs."

There were many thoughts that flew through Sif's mind. Unfairness was the first to be known. The cruelty of giving her little choice in such a matter. Of using matrimony to pacify the people. But where there might have been just anger spread another feeling. Pity. The burden on Thor's shoulders was never greater than it was now. His words, though harsh and emotionless, were not without cause. Perhaps she may attempt to reason with him eventually. And if she could not, what true harm could come from marrying her king? A man whom she had known all her life. Her dearest friend. In spite of it all, it was not such a bad thought. Still, one variable remained. Stepping forward, Sif laid her hand on Thor's cheek, turning him to face her. "If that is your wish, then I will obey. Willingly. But Thor, do not doom yourself to a life without love. You deserve more than a marriage of politics, my friend."

That's when Thor's hardened face cracked. His impenetrable facade began to crack, the truth of his aching heart shone through. With all Thor must now cope with, there was no room to mourn his own, personal loss. With the death of his father, all of Asgard grieved with him. But not a single man or woman would do so for the death of his love. He would never admit it, neither to others nor himself. There were times, in the darkness when he could not sleep, where he wished to the point of heartache that that oh-so familiar touch would return to him. That Loki's hand, as if from nowhere, would take his own. That he might have retained one shred of what had made him so happy these past months.

Thor turned from Sif, his face returning to its hardened state. "It is not a question of deserving. It is a question of what is needed." Though he did not see, he could feel the kind gaze of his friend. While he was too proud to accept it, he appreciated her sympathy. 

"Yes, My King." A kiss was placed upon his cheek. Thor had no reaction for it. With a weighted heart, Sif left the room, letting Thor alone with his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki had not slept. How could he? So many nights, he had drifted away to the sounds of another heartbeat. A deep breathing. The warmth of skin beneath his own. He could almost feel the hard pillow Thor's body made for him. Touch the rough scars that littered his ruddy skin. He missed that most. Touching him. There was something so precious in the act alone. Was it because that, among all else, was to be held out of his reach? He could see Thor again, that was possible. With the anger of the gods against him, he would most likely see him on the battle field. Bloodied, bruised, and torn from sanity. Or worse. He would see his corpse, being dragged home as Bjarke's trophy. That he feared most of all. No doubt he would hear him again as well. Smell the sweat on his skin. The dirt and blood on his armor. But feel? To feel him would be a blessing, even if it were just a moment. Feel the knots in his hair, the rough whiskers on his chin. How that scruff tickled him with every fluttering kiss. How empty Loki felt without them. He wished beyond measure that he could hate Thor for turning away. For threatening him. It would be so easy to loathe his former lover in the wake of this new war. To love him was just too painful. 

A pounding came to his door and Loki sat up quickly. As if his thoughts had been audible and the guards had come to punish him for them. When the door did open, it was not the castle guard, but his brother Jari. The spindle Jotun had his bow leaning against his bare shoulder as he sucked casually on his front teeth.

"You're to report to the training grounds," he said plainly.

Worry flew across his face. "What for?" he demanded.

"Father says you're old enough to fight along side us." That left a cold pit at the bottom of Loki's stomach. Jari continued. "What with Frey leading his own battalion, it's best if we have as many of our own soldiers on the front lines."

Soldiers. Front lines. Once again, fear gripped Loki and refused to relent. During the first war, he had been far too young to fight as his brothers did. Even Jari was arguably too young to do so, but ended up on the battlefield eventually. "He isn't ashamed of me?" Loki blurted out. He quickly covered his tracks. "With what the Asgardians have turned me into, I mean."

Jari let out a cruel snicker. "Not much we can do about it, eh? Better to put you to work than let a pair of hands go useless." With a jerk of his head, Jari turned, Loki given no choice but to follow. His steps were heavy as he tried not to dwell on the fact that he was to enter into combat. Did the fates just deem this his punishment? For now, he would no longer pine for Thor in his castle room.

Now, he would risk the chance to fight him.

Loki remembered his final words, a shudder falling down his spine. Would he truly kill him? Miserably, he knew that Thor had every right to take his head with that hammer. Yet there was the smallest ember of hope dwelling within him. So small that it threatened to be put out at any moment. Still, it burned with the idea that perhaps, should their paths cross in battle, his life might be spared.

When they arrived in the training pitch, Loki found to his dismay that Bjarke was waiting for him. In his hands was not his usual spiked mace, but two sticks of hallow wood, used for training. He towered over the youngest of his family, twirling the sticks in his fingers. "Well well well. Finally, father has found use of you, eh?" Loki did not respond, hands clenched behind his back. "I am to show you no mercy, you realize. When you are there, in the heat of battle, your enemy will not relent."

Loki glared. "I doubt _you_ need such an excuse, Bjarke."

Bjarke laughed darkly. "You're right. I don't." Feet sliding further apart, he held his sticks aloft, as though they were daggers. "Now, arm yourself, baby brother.

"For the rest of the week, you are _mine._ "


	21. First Rain

Eventually, Loki had grown numb to the falls. The first one was the worst. Being knocked to the ground as carelessly as a ninepin. His knees scraped, his hands scratched. By the tenth or twelfth, his bones ached at every movement. By the twentieth, his bones ached whether moving or stagnant. By time he had lost count, the pain was so constant and so repetitive that he had developed a dull throbbing in his body, acting almost as if it was a suit of armor. Loki had kept this suit on his person for a week. With little but the thin, wooden breast plate and gauntlets of a trainee to protect him, Loki was handed to the mercy of his elder brother. Bjarke seemed rather enthused about this little arrangement, and took his duties to train the prince with great energy. Every day rang the same. Rise, eat quickly, training, exercise, eat again, train longer, one more meal and then to bed. Though Bjarke's version of "training" was less teaching and more whacking Loki around with a stick. An activity that was wholly tiresome to (apparently) only one of the two parties. By the end of the week, Loki had bruises on his arms and legs that were the size of goose eggs. Little marks of victory for the Jotun, Loki was sure.

Being knocked to his hands and knees for the umpteenth time, Loki coughed, trying hard to catch his breath. Bjarke had landed a good, hard smack to his temple, sending him spinning. Looking up, Loki's vision was still very blurry, but he forced himself to focus. Bjarke, rolling his shoulder with a delightful smirk, readied his short staff for yet another attack. "The enemy won't go so easy on you, brother," he taunted. "There, looking like the dog you are. They won't give you the grace to breathe or relax." He began to strut forward, the weapon in his hand ready to be let loose. "They'll attack you at a moment's notice-!" 

But Loki had had enough for one life time. Raising his hand quickly, Bjarke's raised staff suddenly turned into lead. Heavier than any lead bar had ever proven to be. A look of surprise splashed across the warrior's face before he actually let his arm fall backwards, him nearly falling with it. Relieved that he'd given himself a few moments of reprieve, Loki sighed out, bringing himself to his feet. Jari, who was leisurely watching, mindlessly sharpening his arrows, let out a chortle. "Ooh. Might need to be faster on the draw, brother." 

"Keep quiet," Bjarke snapped. With his muscles straining, he hoisted the bar from the ground, nostrils flaring like a bull's. "Change it back, Loki!"

Loki, meanwhile, was using his own staff as a crutch to bring him to his feet. "Why?" he snipped. "I believe I've had my fill of you battering me like a child's ball, Bjarke." 

"Because if you don't, I'll give this new toy of mine a swing," the older snarled. "And knock those pointed teeth right out of your mouth!" 

Loki sneered at the prospect. With a snap of his fingers, the staff returned to wood, Bjarke giving a jerk at the change in weight. Huffing in annoyance, the hard headed frost giant stepped forward, smacking Loki a little too roughly on the back of the head. "Enough of your foolishness. When you are in the battlefield, your tricks will only be your detriment. An illusion will not save you when a thousand spears are headed towards your heart, Loki." 

"No. I'm sure I should learn from your example of patience and exceptional temperament." Again, Loki received a swat on the back of his skull. 

"Bjarke!" 

All three looked up to see their oldest brother approach. Frey wore a slightly more modest robe today, covered by bits and pieces of royal armor. "Father requests your presence. The soldiers set out at dawn and we must review our battle plan."

"Ha." Bjarke let his staff rest against his shoulder. "Why must a plan be so necessary? The Asgardians are weak. If not by our hand, they will fall on their own accord." Loki's gut twisted at that, but he made no agreeing expression, choosing to keep his face blank. "But very well. I'm sure this one could use a break." Giving Loki's shoulder a rough push, Bjarke tossed his staffs aside before following Frey back into their castle home. Jari let out a low whistle. 

"Tomorrow it is then," he remarked. "I can't wait to loose a few arrows on those heathen scum." Red eyes turned to Loki, who had yet to change his expression. "Won't that be nice, brother? To get revenge on those that forced you into such an ugly mask?" 

Those words burned him. Now glaring, Loki removed his training armor, making his way toward the western door. As he did so, he casually shoved Jari where he sat, knocking him back over the short wall and into the snow behind him. As much as it eased his anger to see the archer flail, it did little to keep it that way. Jari belted out a laugh behind him, taunting Loki's weak attempt to silence him. Loki could do little else but storm into the castle. Unfortunately for him, it seemed he would not be alone this day. 

"Did you have a good day in training, my liege?" The ever persistent voice of Carr grated his ears. Soon after, the servant popped up, as if from nowhere, hands clasped before him. That ever present smile sat on his fat face. "Shall I call for a bath? Food? Or are you on a short break before Prince Bjarke continues your lesson today?"

"My brothers are in my father's company at the moment." Loki (unwillingly) lead Carr up the spiral staircase and towards his room. "I shall be left in peace until supper time." He would have gone on, chiding Carr for being so irritating, when a sharp pain caught his attention. Hissing slightly, he touched his abdomen, leaning against the wall. "Damn..." 

"What is the matter, Highness?" 

"My loathsome brother has been beating me rather thoroughly these past days. No doubt he's left some permanent markers." He remained still, waiting until the pain was over with. However, Carr did not seem so patient. Edging close, he actually wrapped Loki's arm around his shoulders, allowing him to lean on him. The act of touching the prince in such a way was damning in itself, but Loki was so shocked at the touch that he said nothing about it. Instead, he stared, realizing that this was the first kind interaction he'd felt since the attack on Asgard. A sudden flash of guilt hit his stomach at his treatment of Carr thus far. 

"Do not feel shame, Prince Loki," he said, still chipper as ever. "Your brother Bjarke is known for his strength and cruelty. I daresay most would not survive him with a few simple bruises. You should be proud of that." In spite of the servant's strange, stupid compliment wrapped in an insult, Loki smiled. If only for a second. 

"I think I will call for a bath," he said, leaning on his servant to keep himself steady. "And food. Plenty of it. If I am to fight tomorrow, I will have wanted to live my last night in leisure." 

"Of course, Highness. But between the two of us?" As Carr smiled, a twinkle sat in his eye. "This will not be your last night." 

"Oh? You think not? And why is that?"

"Because in you, I have all the faith in the world."

A grimmer smile glinted Loki's lips and he looked away. "At least one of us does." 

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Up.  _Up_ , Loki! Hurry now!" 

Loki had no sooner gone to bed than did he feel himself shaken awake. Blurry eyed, he peered through the darkness and spotted Jarvi hovering above him. Already the Jotun was dressed in a light suit of armor, his best arrows strapped to his back. Loki did not question the time, but stood and dressed in the darkness. His clothes felt alien to him. Every piece of armor was unwanted and ill-fitting. Loki wanted desperately to return to the warm embrace of his feather bed. But that was not an option for him. Once he was prepared to face the horrors of the new day, Loki followed Jarvi down to where the soldiers waited. In the darkness of the early morning, blue torches were lit. Hundreds of soldiers, lined up in perfect order, awaited their commands. Each one cloaked in strong, obsidian armor that shined just so in the torchlight. 

When his armor was situated, Loki followed Jarvi down the steps and into the base of Hrœzla. There, the rest of his family awaited him, all readied in their own suits of armor. Beyond the open doors sat hundreds of soldiers, all ready to give their lives at the word of their king. It was sickening, really. To take orders without question like worker bees, dying off for the good of the hive. A man like Loki never thought that he'd be anything like these faceless warriors. But not only would he now fight beside them, but he knew just how easy it was to fall into the trap of servitude. It was his required silence, after all, that had lead him back to this place of ice.

But dwelling on the past did nothing. And so Loki buried those regrets deep within him this day. They would do nothing for him.

His eyes lingered on the center of his family. Standing proud and above the rest, as he always had, was his father. His armor was engraved with the same runes from above their family door. Depictions of kings before him were drawn along the breastplate's edges. Layers upon layers of rock and steel formed scales of Laufey's protection, though he wore no helm. It was Laufey's own philosophy that a real warrior never let their opponents get so close. And if they did, they had no business living anyhow.

With silence on his lips, Loki stood beside the others, staring into the sea of armed slaves. It wasn't long before Laufey began to speak.

" _Dolthal kelisha ma ka!_ " Ancient words filled the courtyard in an instant. "Today, my brothers, we fight! So many of you remember the bloodshed of such a short past. But this was mere play in comparison to what we shall bring down upon the Asgardians as repentance for their heathen ways!" Cheers rose up, a few Jotuns banging on their chest plates in agreement. "The truce that once brought shame to this great people is over! Hear me now, brothers of Jotunheim! _We will not falter! We will not break!_ The Asgardians think themselves supreme over us. It is with disgust that I remind you - the good people of this mountain - their habits! Sinful fornication. Disregard of morality. Destruction of the natural order. Misuse of a woman's place. The liberties they take do not only offend our way of life, they offend the gods themselves! And as servants to the Four Deities,  _we shall purge infidelity from its golden throne!_ "

Loki was thankful he had not eaten that morning. Laufey's words made him sick. He stared at the mindless hoard with a vile anger that he had not felt in some time. His teeth bared down on his tongue, lest he speak out of turn. The urge to do so was great. For every spiteful word that was said, Loki wanted to counter it. He wanted to yell. To scream until blood left his lips. This was wrong. Laufey was wrong. And so many would pay the price for his prejudice.

Laufey raised his hand for silence, the army quieting instantly. "Today, my brothers, we leave the safety of our home to defend it from the evils of this mortal world. Should you die today, my children, know that your reward will be great." Another fierce cry of joy. "So march forth, children of Jotunheim! _And bring me their heads!_ "

With that, the armies turned, eager to march into battle. Loki was still a moment longer, his eyes closed. He didn't fear death on the field. In fact, perhaps it would be a kindness for him to fall so early. His biggest fear was not that he would die, but that he would do so at the hands of the man he once loved.

Or perhaps he still loved?

"My Lord Prince." The voice of Carr brought him out of such painful thoughts. The servant wore a modest set of armor, but no weapons to speak of. Most likely, he would stay by Loki's side only when it was safe for him to do so. Yet Loki could not fault him for this. The youngest prince of Jotunheim hadn't so much as stepped on a battlefield, let alone elected to go defenseless and with a smile. Stepping forward, Loki hoisted himself up into the stirrups, watching as his family did the same. Carr, meanwhile, made sure that everything was in order. Saddlebags of supplies, medicine, food, etcetera, all prepared ahead of time. Watching his brothers set off with the army, Loki lingered, hands resting on the horse's reigns.

"Carr." His servant looked up, though Loki did not take his eyes away from the path ahead. "What would you do if all you've ever known was wrong?" Finally, he turned down to the Jotun, gauging his reaction. Carr looked stricken, not knowing how to answer.

"What...? But Highness, the righteous path is-"

"Forget the righteous path," Loki commanded. "Let us just say for now that everything you've ever known has been unmade. Every truth you've held dear, every spark of confidence, let us say that something happens to prove you wrong. And let us say that you had an opportunity to act against the old ways." His hands tightened on those leather reigns. "What would you do?"

Carr was silent. For once, he truly thought things through, choosing his words carefully. In truth, it was the most thoughtful Loki had ever seen him. Finally, he spoke. "One cannot simply give up the old ways," he began. "But... I suppose... I do not think I could fully believe as I had for so long. Given the choice, I fear I would act, even if it caused my death."

Loki was still. Beneath him, his horse pawed at the ground, eager to venture forward with the rest of the soldiers. Letting his eyes close, a ghost of a smile fell upon Loki's lips.

"You are a better man than I will ever be."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is our west flank?"

"The Vanaheim people will arrive before sundown, My Liege. As of now, we have the sharpest archers to make up our gaps."

Thor rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Gaps that I pray will be filled before Laufey marches on us."

Sif, who remained by Thor's side as Volstagg gave his report, put a hand on his arm. "If we are attacked on our weaker flanks, the others will rally together to protect it."

It had been tense for three days now. The barrier between Asgard and Jotunheim had been set since then, but not everything was properly in place. For one thing, despite the good intentions of the soldier barrier, the attack on Asgard had left the militia with at least three hundred less soldiers than normal. Even with the promise of Vanaheim aide, the two armies barely scratched the surface of 2,000 men and women. At least 1,200 of Laufey's men had attacked the golden city, and it was known that this had not been their full force. Thor tried to ignore the numbers, but they became harder and harder to push aside. Thank the gods Thor's friends could give him strength.

It was dawn now. Thor had gotten little sleep these past days. He knew it was unwise, but no amount of drink could calm him enough to slumber. Heimdal had offered to concoct an herbal remedy for his troubles, but Thor refused. The side effects of Heimdal's concoctions always left Thor lethargic and slow. He could not afford these luxuries.

The sky outside had turned grey with the rising sun, but its gentle rays did not peak through the clouds as they had always done. This morning was a cold, frigid day. The smell of rain hung all around them. For the warm season was over. Now, just as everything inside Thor's world went dark, so had everything outside as well. Morning dew clung to the bottom edges of Thor's tent. It was not like the colorful canvases of the spring festival. These tents were staunch and blank. Sturdy, dependable, and made for survival. Looking up from his maps, Thor examined the rising shadows against the side of his own. Would today be the day? This day, would he see the blue faces of monsters come to kill him and his people?

_Not all are monsters..._

Thor shut his eyes tightly. No. _All_ were monsters. Every single Jotun riding their way to slaughter them in droves - they were monsters. Every Jotun who broke through Asgard's walls, murdering the innocent - _they were monsters_. And the one person who could have stopped it, the one person who might have kept so many from dying by giving the people of Asgard warning... yes. He too was a monster.

So why didn't Thor feel so?

The king shook those feelings aside. This was not the time, nor the place. Instead, he returned his focus to his maps. So many marks and pins lay along the paper. Groups of soldiers, all lined up from the shore to the woodlands. Scouts had been up and down the land, waiting for Laufey's inevitable arrival. Thor knew this game, and knew it well. Laufey would come. Their first battle would begin. Who knew how long it would last? A day? A week? It would go until the soldiers could fight no more, and both would retreat to their camps. And then the watching began. Each side staring one another down, waiting for an opportunity. A show of weakness. The smallest detail could be enough. And thus the fighting would begin anew until one side began to retreat.

A pitter-patter caught his attention next. Thor turned up to the roof of his canvased tent. Rain had started to splatter across the roof, trailing down the canvas walls like tear drops. That was it then. The warmth of the world was gone.

"Thor." Sif's hand was gentle, laying against his shoulder. The last royal son of Asgard took it in his, turning down to her. "I can see the self doubt in your eyes. Do not think you must bare this alone."

Thor's first instinct was to deny this assumption. A king should not show weakness, especially a new king. Too many depended on his stability, his fierceness, his unwavering strength. But looking into the eyes of his friend, Thor found his resolve crumble. A sigh left him and he sat on one of his stools, elbows on the table as he rested there. "If only that were true. So many will die today under my orders. It was different before. There were others I answered to, others that balanced the troubles faced by all. Now, it is only me." Sif opened her mouth to protest, but Thor held up his hand. "Even with you set to be my wife, even with so many by my side as friends and family, it is I who carries the weight of this army. And I alone." His face, tired and losing its color by the day, pressed against the palms of his hands.

But whatever comfort that could be given to him was cut off, quite abruptly, by the sound of a horn. Thor's head snapped up, his body suddenly surging with energy. He and Sif both rushed into the rain, which had grown harder by now, to the song of the scout's trumpet. The three of them were racing back to the encampment, the sound of readying soldiers growing by the second. Laufey had been spotted.

Back into the tent, Thor went for his chest. From it, he pulled his family's armor, dressing quickly and without a need for help. By the time his helm was on, Sif had also dressed for the occasion, her sword and shield ever loyal at her sides. With a nod to one another, the two stepped out into the heavy rain of the world. While most would worry for their health or safety in weather like this, Thor saw the rain as an advantage. One that he would most assuredly take. 

Thor turned, signaling to Volstagg. Already he had rounded up most of their troops, readying them for battle. For miles and miles, Thor saw rows of men and women step into the rain. No fear on their faces. No hesitation in their step. Such a sight replenished Thor's will to fight. Chest forward, he approached the front of his own battalion, Sif at his right hand. 

"MARCH!" he commanded. All on foot, the soldiers of Asgard began to gather and advance, almost as if they were one creature. And Thor lead them. They moved fifty yards before Thor's hammer was held aloft. A great spark was seen from it. Like lightning itself. It caused the line to stop, clenching closer together. Thor turned from his spot, motioning a scout to come forward.

"How many?" he asked.

"At least a thousand, My King," the scout insisted. "Perhaps more."

"How widely spread?"

"They come in one group. There are no troops beyond the northern hills. If we can keep our hold here, we may be able to funnel them back."

Thor nodded in agreement. "Very well. Travel two hundred yards and speak to the battalion leaders. Tell your comrades to do the same on the other side. We will draw in who we can to strengthen our barrier here. Our strongest forces will follow Laufey's play and move accordingly."

"Yes, Majesty."

It wasn't long before rows of soldiers filled out behind Thor. Perfectly sectioned off columns of warriors, the rain splashing harshly against their metal armor. Thor held Mijolnir up. "HOLD YOUR MARKS!" he thundered. His orders echoed from the voices of other battalion leaders. After which, the Asgardians held true. All was quiet, save the hissing of the rain. That's when Thor heard it. Soft, rhythmic sounds of moving feet. They were almost inaudible at first, rising with each passing second. When the time was right, Thor turned back to his row of archers. "KNOCK!" he barked. Every single bowman pulled an arrow back on their string, readying their weapons. "HOLD!" Thor turned back around, muscles tight. Still, they waited. Closer and closer did the footfalls come. Until finally, the Jotuns were visible.

Through the hills they marched, their lines of men no wider than thirty feet across. But Thor had known war for too long to believe they had the advantage in numbers over Laufey's men. Moments later, his assumption was confirmed. Laufey's men began to spread at the base of the hills, forming lines upon lines of armored men. They seemed endless. Black and blue dots against the gray/green world around them. Soon, the entire patch was covered in blackness. Like a stormcloud. Thor did not tremble at their size. Instead, he rose his hammer on high, letting the water of the rain above drench him. Feeding him. Giving him strength. For Thor had a stormcloud all his own.

As Thor readied himself, so did Laufey's army. Jotun after Jotun poured out from the hillside's crevice. Eventually, the army stopped, having formed a wall of warriors at least five hundred strong in their front lines. At mere guess, Thor had at his direct command somewhere close to three. He prayed that the Vanaheim people would appear soon.

Silence fell upon the armies. Hundreds of yards away from one another, and not a word from anyone. No one dared take their eyes away from the enemy across from them. That's when movement caught Thor's eye. A figure, massive and giant atop his thick haired horse, rode slowly through the army. Four others followed, on their own mares. Thor recognized them instantly. Laufey and his four sons. Frey, the eldest. Ruler of Jotunheim's northern most kingdoms. Bjarke, the second oldest. Infamous for his cruelty, and said to be Laufey's successor. Jarvi, the middle child. A marksman so profound that many believed him to have never missed a target - ever. And then finally... Loki.

Yes. Thor saw him. How could he not? A face of pink against a sea of icy blue. And Thor knew, even hundreds of yards apart, Loki saw him too. So many thoughts flew through his mind. Would he make good on his promise? Would Thor truly kill him, given the chance? At the time those words were spoken, Thor could answer "yes" with no question. Indeed, his anger was justified. Both knew this. Now? Now, he was not so sure.

Beside him, Thor felt a hand clutch his own. He turned, Sif nodding at him with certainty. Thor returned the gesture. Taking himself away, Thor lowered his hammer and stepped forward. Still, the archers were locked. All around him, the world stormed, whipping his hair and cloak about his body violently. As he approached, so did Laufey. Each walked fifty paces towards one another. Still far enough to stay on opposite sides, but close enough to see. Thor refused to let his eyes drift to his enemy's youngest, for fear of what doubts it might bring. Instead, he spun Mijlonir three times before letting it fall to the earth. A strange light came from its handle, rising up through Thor's arm and towards his throat. Stopping just below his jaw, Thor's next words echoed as though spoken from a deep cavern.

" _Laufey_ ," he announced, his voice rumbling as deeply as his title suggested. " _You come to us now, with the promise of war and destruction for both our people. Yet no fates are set in stone. I give you one last chance. Turn back, or allow my armies to stain the earth with Jotun blood._ "

As expected, Laufey only laughed at this proposition. His armies joined in, sneering and jabbing at Thor's last attempt for peace. Still, Thor stood strong, Mijolnir's light having faded from his throat. That was it then. Staying where he was - open, exposed - Thor raised his hammer. Every archer behind him became even more taut. Without a word, Thor let his arm drop. The sounds of hundreds of arrows cut through the rain like shattering glass. From Asgard's side, and from Laufey's. Beneath the rain of fire, the armies began to advance on one another. Great cries rose from either side.

It had begun.

So many things happened at once. What arrows did not collide with one another soared into the flesh of their targets. Some fell immediately. Others braced through the pain, moving forward. Blood flew alongside rainwater and mud. As if it too belonged to nature's whim. When the armies clashed, they did so more violently than the wave of any stormy sea. Blue, pink, brown, red, gray, black. The canvas of the world had now been soiled by so many colors, all clashing together. Paint that would forever stain what innocence was left in this life, or the next. Screams of death and destruction intertwined with the breaking of bones, the repossession of life. And Thor was in the middle of it all.

His hammer worked as an extension of himself. It always had. Now more than ever, he and Mijolnir were one and the same. Diving into the battle, Thor sent his weapon flying. It soared through a straight line, knocking Jotun after Jotun off their feet. When it returned, Thor spun about, landing a square hit against the face of an enemy behind him. With every turn, every slight of hand, a new enemy was brought to their knees. It was with this great power at hand that Thor managed to carve through enemy lines. Blood had sprayed so liberally through the air that soon, Thor's very vision had dyed red. He could keep track of now allies, the few he managed to aide by pure luck. In this state of war, Thor could only hope to keep his strength till the end. 

At one point, Thor had managed to drive himself deep into the fog of Jotuns, carving through their lines slowly but surely. However, the strength of a single man was not infallible. After knocking aside a cluster of Jotun archers, Thor felt the unyielding arms of an enemy wrap around his throat. He gasped, trying desperately to pull the forearm from his neck. He was raised from the ground, the attacker in question at least twice Thor's size. Three others, seeing the king's helpless position, turned to him, spears at the ready. Amid the chaos of battle, it seemed Thor would meet his end by the hands of mere soldiers. They inched nearer, savoring the sight of Thor's helpless flailing. 

_CRACK!_

Gasping for breath, Thor focused what energy he could into Mijolnir, holding it as high as possible. From the rainclouds above, lightning struck the metal head. A blast pulsated from Thor's weapon, knocking his attackers back ten feet at least. Thor fell to the ground, electricity now surging from his very fingertips. His helm had been knocked from its place during the attack. Thor did not bother to put it back on. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. Mijolnir on high, he began to roll his arm in circles. The energy of the thunderstorm throbbed from his hammer, striking down all who dared come near him. Standing against the wind and rain, Thor looked to be - not a king - but a god.

With a mighty thrust, Thor landed his hammer down against the dirt below. The power that he held so properly decimated enemies around him, most dying instantly. When Thor stood, all that was left in his wake was a charred, blackened crater. Standing, Thor's attention was caught before he returned to battle. Just beyond the ring of black, Thor spotted a face that made his heart stop in place.

The fighting had gone mute. All around him, it was as though the war had slowed to a crawl. Standing on the edge of Thor's burned circle, was Loki. His arm was slick with blood, one hand covering a wound. The rain managed to wash it down from his body and to the base of his feet. The other held a spear of his own, but without power or intent. Staring at Thor, Loki could do nothing but stand there, watching. Waiting, perhaps. 

Suddenly, Loki turned, making to flee from Thor's sight. Like a sudden switch, the Asgardian King was brought from his daze. With a lurch in his gut, he pursued. His deadly hammer remained unused. He would not need it. He ran until his legs could run no more. And still he ran. His hand outstretched, his body yearning. But for what? Revenge? Repentance? Closure? All he knew was that he needed to catch him. To feel him. To destroy him, or to keep him living. Thor could not decide.

Finally, that hand fell to Loki's armor. With a mighty tug, the former Jotun was pulled to the dirt, flat on his back. He cried out, spear falling from him. Stuck in a torrid of anger and sadness, Thor let his fist fly. Loki rolled out just in time to avoid Thor's knuckles. Yanking his fist from the dirt, the two men squared off. For whatever reason, Thor let Mijolnir drop. Now with only his fists, Thor lunged for Loki.

Back and forth they went. Loki was quick, avoiding most of Thor's strikes with astounding accuracy. But was this due to his training, or Thor's desire to miss? Nevertheless, the King of Thunder did manage to land a few strikes, as did Loki himself. Back and forth the blows went, each man giving out as good as they got. Thor was strong, but Loki was cunning. A small blade, hidden in his belt, came out soon after the fighting started. So many times Loki threatened to dig it within Thor's armor, but the threat was never fully realized. But finally - _finally_ -

"Agh!" Thor had managed to grab hold of Loki's arm, twisting it straight out and bent the Jotun prince to a knee. That knife fell from his sweating fingers as Thor kept him still, free hand clutching Loki's raven black hair. There they stayed. For how long? A second? An eternity? Neither spoke, neither moved. Thor's indecision weighed heavy on his heart as he stared at the man whom he once cherished so dearly.

He could do it now. He could snap his neck and be done with it. Thor had the power. Loki was at his mercy. Avenge the death of his father and his people and be rid of his own confusion all in one motion.

His eyes closed, Thor made his decision.

The king stood quickly, Loki with his wrists tight behind his back. With one hand, Mijolnir was called back to its master, just in time for Thor to knock away a few Jotuns who thought themselves good enough to sneak up on the king. Quickly, Thor grabbed his cloak, biting the end with his teeth, and ripped. A thick shred of cloth now hung from his mouth. With quick motions, Loki's hands were tied behind him. Confusion and fear flooded Loki's eyes as he looked upon the Asgardian. Thor glared at his captured prize.

"You do not deserve the kindness of a quick death." Turning sharply, Thor quickly dealt with a few other Jotuns before throwing Loki over his shoulder and running. Loki watched as his brethren grew farther and farther from his sights. Before he knew it, Thor had carried him all the way back to their encampment. Once there, Loki was thrown to the ground, two Asgardian soldiers quick to grab hold of him and pull him to his feet.

"Keep him in my tent," he commanded. "Let him escape and it is on your heads."

"Yes, Highness."

"Yes, My King."

Straightening, Thor cracked his neck, glaring at Loki. "I will return to deal with you soon enough _._ " With that, the king returned to battle, leaving Loki in the hands of Thor's guards. Realization hit him as he was dragged to Thor's quarters. 

Once again, he was nothing more than a trophy.

 


	22. Atonement

For Loki, the world had changed in a matter of minutes. That morning, he had been alongside his brothers, forced to fight a war he did not want. And from the sea of battle came a familiar face. One, seemingly, from his very dreams. While there was that tiny, quickly dwindling part of him that had once hoped to see Thor again under different circumstances, Loki could not help but think that this was appropriate. After all they'd been through, all the love and betrayal and anger and pain, this felt proper. He was so certain that his life would end on the battlefield. In those brief moments where he was pinned at the mercy of Thor's own hands that Loki embraced death. His choices, after all, were bleak at best. Return to the family that hated him, survive the war he helped start, or be killed by the man he once held dearest in the world. There was a part of him, small as it was, which hoped that they would have met in different circumstances. But what hope had that dream of fruition? Thus he remained submissive, resigning himself to Thor's will. And then, just as he had prepared to accept his end, he was plucked from the earth and taken away. His entire body jolted painfully on Thor's shoulder. As he ran, the world around him grew farther and farther away. The sounds of pain grew fainter, and soon enough, Loki was taken to where there was ne'er a Jotun in sight.

Shackles were slapped on his wrists and he was pushed deeper into the Asgardian camp. Between the rain and sweat, Loki's body chafed against his black armor, legs quaking with every step. He did not resist, nor jeer at his captors. They did not make the effort to shame him, at least. When they arrived at Thor's tent, the ice prince was taken inside and wiped down. His armor was striped, leaving him only in his soaked undergarments. Even his shoes were removed. His hair was matted and roughly toweled dry. Loki had a feeling his clean up was more for the sake of Thor's tent than his own dirty body. Once he was deemed worthy to remain, Loki was clapped in irons a second time, and restrained to the post of Thor's bed. There, he sat on the floor, watching the rain smack against the canvased walls. Beyond the showers, he heard the faint screams of war, all muffled by the storm.

He sat like this for hours on end. Alone in Thor's tent, Loki was locked away in darkness, with no sense of time. No guards came to check on him, and he could decipher no words in the mishmash of sounds in the world around him. Hunger came quickly, but it was ultimately ignored. Instead, Loki examined every inch of Thor's quarters from his spot on the floor. For in it held a coldness Loki had never experienced. Coming from a land of ice, Loki had known every sense of cold there was. This was different. So vastly different. He thought, at first, that it might have been the comparison to their own festival tent all that time ago. Yet a few moments of thought on this idea and Loki knew he was mistaken. It was not the lack of color that made this tent so much less than the last one they shared. Nor was it the absence of wine or fruit or furs. It was the truth. Back then, during their time at the festival, Thor and Loki had reaped the benefits of love and companionship. He could still remember the soft breeze that drifted through the tent's flaps. Waking up to the smell of honeysuckle and meed, all while wrapped so securely in Thor's grasp. He remembered their laughs, echoing through the faire like summer bells. So many useless things filled their time. So many wonderful, fantastic, useless things. And how Thor's eyes would light in pleasure at every single one of them. Why did those happy days seem so far now? Loki could recall them so clearly, but in a way one might recall a vivid dream. It was as if they had never happened at all.

Some time during his wait, Loki had no choice but to doze off to the sound of the rain. His sleep was restless, and when his empty stomach awoke him, he felt all the more tired than he started. Still, it rained. It seemed darker now. Had a whole day slipped from him so easily? He turned his head, trying to listen to the camp around him. There were voices. Panicked, angry, weary voices. None of which he could understand. It was all... noise. Loki shifted his body, legs aching in protest after being cramped for so long. When his foot shifted, he felt something brush against it. Looking down, he spotted a wooden bowl that had not been there prior. In it, half a roll of bread and a withered apple stared up at him. A cup of water - no doubt rainwater - also lay in wait. Ignoring his pride, Loki ate the meal he was given, chewing through the stale, unappetizing crust of his bread. It was hardly what he needed after a day of no food, but it was enough to satiate him for now.

Just as he was finishing his water, the noises outside became more direct. A notable change in the air caught Loki's attention. He craned his neck, wishing for the ability to stand (damn these chains - what if he needed to relieve himself? Was he expected to soil his own trousers?). The sounds of heavy boot steps came closer to the tent, and Loki realized who it must have been. His stomach turned, and instantly he regretted what little he did fill it with. But finally, the steps stopped. Why? What kept him from entering? A guard? Or something else? Perhaps nothing was keeping him from entering. Nothing but the inability to face what was to come should he enter that threshold. After an eternity of waiting, the heavy flap was pushed open. There stood the darkened figure of Loki's captor. Drenched in blood and water, his hammer was held languid at his side.

Thor. The king of Asgard.

Letting the canvas fall behind him, Thor dropped Mijolnir with a resounding "WHUMP!" to the ground. Loki said nothing, eyes plastered to the figure before him. First thing he did was turn to the wooden bureau. The sound of flint sparked, and soon, an oil lamp broke through the darkness. The first thing Loki saw was Thor's face. Ragged, torn, and practically beyond recognition. Circles sat beneath his eyes, implying his lack of sleep. His beard, once closely shorn and well kept, was a mess on his defined jaw. On his armor, the evidence of the battle cloaked him in dirt and viscera. Loki did not dare imagine how many fell to his hammer. Eventually, more lamps were lit. Thor, walking over to his chest, removed his armor. Each piece peeled away, falling like rotten fruit. In nothing but his tunic and trousers, the damage was all the more apparent. Blood soaked through the Asgardian cotton, bleeding down his sleeves like waterpaint. As he walked, he did so with a slight limp, leaning heavily on his left side if he could help it.

Once that was over with, Thor came to the main table of his quarters, all without sparing Loki a glance. Having a seat, Thor pulled a small bucket and cloth towards him and began to clean his wounds. He did this slowly, focused on his task. For had his attention been anywhere else, neither knew what might become of it. Only when his wounds were bandaged and bound did Thor stop completely. Still, he did not look. Instead, his hands on his knees, he stared at the floor, as though it might have some answers for him.

"I see." Loki was the first to speak. Thor barely seemed to register. "I am so dead to you that even now I am a ghost. Why have you brought me here then? To haunt you?"

"Mind your words, Jotun." Thor's voice was low. Restrained. Standing, he went to his decanter of wine, which had been filled in preparation for his return. After his goblet was filled, he took a deep, calming drink.

"So it is 'Jotun' now, is it?"

"Yes."

"Ha." Loki's laugh came out bitter, every breath carving him from the inside. "Well if I have fallen to the mere title of 'Jotun,'  I can only assume you shall have no issue completing your task."

"I said _mind_ your words."

"Why?" Loki demanded. "This is the end, is it not? What right have I to stay alive? What actions must you take if not to kill me? Am I not allowed to speak as I wish in these, my final hours?" Thor tensed sharply, his hand forming into a fist against his table. "Do not tell me you have lost the gall, oh great king! Or if you have, do not torture me with your absent eyes! I will not fight you, so be done with it! Go! My neck is here, do you need it? Or perhaps my breast? Come and finish it! Take your revenge and rid me of this misery! Or have you become too _cowardly_ to exact the revenge you so desire-?!"

" _ENOUGH!_ " In an angry storm, Thor swiped his arms across his table, knocking over goblets and maps and whatever else it intended to hold. Turning, Loki saw the fierceness of a thousand beasts bleed from Thor's glare. Marching to Loki's side, he grabbed hold of his hair, yanking his head back. Forcing him to lock eyes. "I will _NOT_ be called coward! Not from _you!_ You, who so selfishly sacrificed the lives of so many as you trembled in fear of your own blood! You, who so eagerly beg for death, and to what end?! Because you truly fear remorse? Or no. Because you would rather die than face what you helped this world become!"

Loki forced his eyes to close. He waited for the inevitable strike. For Thor's hands to wrap around his throat. And out, so painfully out, would blow his light. But it never happened. Thor never snapped his neck, nor did a number of things he could have. Those fingers loosened, and Thor tore himself away from Loki's side. Forcing his eyes open, the captive watched Thor stand in the center of his tent, hands on his hips. A deafening silence sat between them. So many things to be said. And what a setting to say them in. Loki trailed every one of Thor's movements, wondering just what was running through his mind.

"So what then?" he finally asked. Thor turned to look at him, his face all the more haggard. "You do not mean to kill me. You do not mean to set me free. What is it you want from me?"

Thor grimaced, his shoulders tight as he glared at the tent wall. "Admittedly... I do not know. Earlier today... I thought perhaps I would. I would be within my rights."

"Why, then? Why spare me? You said it yourself; you have the right." His heart grew heavy. Trying to hide it from the Asgardian, Loki withdrew himself against the bedpost. For his eyes had shown sincere regret. "You have the only right."

Thor was hesitant. No one was there to see. No one there to judge the weakness or strength of their new king. There was no council of advisers to throw in their unwanted ideas on how to handle the situation. Which was why Thor found himself kneeling before Loki. As they looked at one another, pain and anguish sat on both their faces. Almost on its own accord, Thor's hand gripped the back of Loki's neck, his palm easily cupping half of his throat. Not in a sinister way. This was gentle. Cautious, yes. Suspicion still sat in Thor's actions, acting as armor against anything that might further hurt him. But the man was not one for revenge. For justice, yes. For balance and for valiance. Never revenge. Even now, after every hateful word that he had dwelled on in the past two weeks, every ounce of spite and loathing and disgust, he could not truly hate the person who sat before him.

"Answer me this," came Thor's soft voice. "Why did you do it? Please, answer me honestly. Why didn't you..." His words caught in his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Loki, at first, didn't know what to say. His immediate reaction would be to claim how ruthless his father was. How terrifying a man he had always been. Yet as he dug deep within himself, he knew the truth. That horrible, selfish truth that even he would not admit to himself. Helpless, Loki let his head roll forward, falling against Thor's forearm. "Because..." he breathed. "Because it would have ruined everything."

"Ruined?"

"If I told you? This war wouldn't have been stopped. It just would have come quicker. And how soon? How soon would it have been before you began to see me in the way your comrades do? How soon before suspicions would have arisen? That I was nothing more than a spy for my father. Until the point where even I could not convince you otherwise."

Thor seemed surprised at such an answer. "What...? But Loki-"

"Save your breath, Thor. I know these fears were childish. You are right, I am nothing more than a coward. I simply could not stand the thought of losing... This. Us. You." His head lifted. More honesty than he had ever shown before sat there. He continued to speak. "Those days were the greatest of my life. I knew no love before you. No compassion. Then, in so short a time, I saw that all slipping through my fingers. No matter what I did, it would happen. And I would end up hated. Can you blame me, then, for wanting to keep that illusion for just a little longer?"

Silence followed Loki's confession. Without him noticing, tears had started to form under his dark lashes. Thor, a touch gentle as could be, brushed them away. "I can not forgive you on behalf of the lives that were lost that day." Loki cringed, but Thor would not allow him to look away. "It is not my place to do so. But perhaps you are right. Perhaps this was inevitable. A man like Laufey... I can only imagine how far his stubborn nature extends.

"What I _can_ do-" Thor slid in further, both hands now cupping either side of Loki's face. "-is show you mercy. Should you so need it."

Loki was struck. What to do with that statement? His emotions, since coming to a boil, were now overflowing. In one swooping wave of relief took hold. Before he knew it, Loki had let himself go. With a shuddering wail, he leaned in, the chains the only things keeping him from embracing the Asgardian king. "I'm sorry-!" he began breathlessly. "O-oh gods! I'm s-s-so so-orry! I n-never said it but I am! I am! I am, _I am, I am!_ Oh Th-Tho-or...!"

Breaking away from Loki temporarily, Thor reached out, breaking his chains with ease. Just like the first day they met. Loki was no prisoner here. His emotions doubling over in abundance, Loki threw himself into Thor's arms. There they held one another, bonded in their grief, in their regret. Held in Thor's embrace, Loki resolved to be a new man. A righteous man. No longer would he put himself before the needs of others. Selfish was in Loki's nature. It would take a great deal of work to replace it with goodness. But if it meant the happiness he and Thor once shared, Loki would work. Every day if he had to. He sat like that for he didn't know how long. Losing himself in the folds of Thor's strength.

Finally, when Loki had deemed himself calm enough, he lifted his head. Thor's eyes were dry, but not without emotion. Was he foolish for forgiving so easily, or wise? His hands, still wrapped in the cold irons of his former prison, reached up to take Thor's face. As if to prove to himself that this was real. With nothing left to hide, Loki rose, and once again their lips clashed in a kiss.

What warmth Loki felt in that. What utter love. In truth, it had been a little over two weeks since their departure, yet it felt like years. The kiss did all that it could to remind him of that. It was, however, cut regrettably short for reasons unknown to Loki. When he looked to Thor with baffled eyes, the man could only answer with pitiful ones.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, barely heard over the hissing of rain. "But I... Loki, I am engaged to be wed." Loki's freshly healed heart tore from its seams. Taking a breath, Thor continued. "After I was crowned king, I knew I could not rule alone. Sif is... Sif would make a good queen. A strong queen. That is something not even you can deny." 

Loki was still, trying to swallow the pain in his chest. It was of no use. Like a glue it stuck to him, weighing him down. Before long, a bitter smile twisted around his lips. "I see... hm... mm..." He leaned downward, the blow of this new information winding him. "No. No, you're right. She would. You're absolutely... And the two of you are so-so perfect together. Ha. A perfect fit. Besides... you already love her. So there's no real change..."

Thor could feel a sharp twist to his gut. Those words wanted to leap from his lips, yet he refrained. "Yes. Of course I love her." Those words made Loki twitch, head still bowed as his hands were flat on the floor. "She is my dearest friend." Such words... they felt so wrong. So deceitful! And to cause Loki such pain... That had not been his intention. Had he kept quiet about it, though, it would have been dishonest. "Loki-"

"You are engaged."

Thor blinked at the sudden statement. "Well... yes. I did just say..."

Loki's head lifted, a bit of desperation in his expression. "Engaged," he repeated. "Not married." Those slender hands clung to Thor's shoulders as Loki eased himself deeper into Thor's lap. "Was it not you who held the idea that one should not restrict his love so narrowly? Only until you are wed. That was what you told me. You and Sif had been lovers before." Eventually, Loki was so far up Thor's thighs that their fronts were flush together. "Yet you had more than she, did you not? And she had more than you. Love is meant to be shared. To be felt." Loki ran his hand up Thor's jaw. A thrill ran up his spine as those trunk like arms began to wrap themselves around his body. "Please. Between my father and this war, we may not have another chance. You will have your queen.

"But first... please have me."

Thor could not deny that he wanted to. If he could return to those innocent times back in Asgard, he would do so, even if it cost his life. Fingers threading through Loki's black hair, he could feel the effects of abuse and ill care. What he wouldn't give to heal him with every soft touch of his hands. Finally, unable to withstand the temptation, they fell victim to it. Lips locked in love and desperation, they let the winds of their passion spirit them away. Away from reality, away from the war. Away from death and blood and dirt. Back to their own place of peace.

Thor lifted Loki's body, cradling him like a doll. Between them, their kisses remained constant. Eventually, they came to Thor's bed, which was a mass of fur and straw. Easily portable in a situation like this. Loki was laid on it, the orange lamp light flickering against their features. Their next moments were a haze of movement and the senses. The chills of clothes being ripped so quickly from their bodies. The feel of wet skin against dry, and the heat made between them. The rain water from above dripped occasionally from the canvas, landing on Thor's broad back. Neither noticed, Loki only catching side-eye glances as tiny rivers sometimes fell down his hips.

They said no words as they ravaged one another. Thor, with little choices to help him along, ended up using lamp oil. The slimy substance sent frozen sparks up Loki's body, all of which thrilled him beyond description. Once inside, Thor indulged in pleasures he had not felt for weeks. Yet it seemed another life time ago. Hovering above him, Thor dug his knees and hands deep into the bed's furs, hips digging their way deeper and deeper into Loki's body. Loki's voice was hushed beneath him, but not without its fire. He clung to Thor, panting in delight with every thrust, every sway between his legs. Would this be their final moments together? Or would he be allowed to stay? To live? He had no hope of becoming husband to this man, but there were still ways to be apart of his life. At this point, Loki didn't care if he was charged with cleaning chamberpots. If it meant never leaving Thor's sights, he would take it. 

All too quickly, their final stretch of pleasure was reached. Finding ecstasy together, they fell within each other's grasp, naked along the top of Thor's bed. They basked in the euphoria of their love making only until shivers descended on them. Thor helped them both beneath his blanket of furs, pulling Loki in close to make sure he was warm enough. The rain wasn't letting up any time soon, it seemed, so it'd be best for both of them to stay close.

Loki, turned towards Thor, watched his expression through the dim, flickering light of the lamps. Both were too tired to sleep. Thor himself had taken to gently combing his fingers through Loki's dark hair. An idea had come to the smaller man, one he feared to share. But, as he had resolved earlier, he would not allow his fears take hold of him. So, mustering up what courage he had, Loki spoke.

"I want to help."

Thor blinked, lifting his head above the pillow. "Help? How?"

"Let me return to Laufey." Those slim hands laid flat against Thor's heart, feeling the gentle beat within. "I will send you correspondence from behind enemy lines. What their plans are, what they try to do. You will be ahead of them at every turn!" 

Clearly, Thor was uneasy. "But if your father discovers your treachery, I will not be there to protect you-"

"This is not about protection." Scooting in closer, Loki clasped his lover's jaw in his hands. His eyes were bright with eagerness to [i]finally[/i] do good. "I care not for my own safety. This is far more important. This could... could save lives. As I should have done then." He brushed strands of hair from his face, their noses pressed against one another. "Let me atone for my sins, my love. Let me help you. Let me do everything in my power to help you end this godsforsaken war!"

Thor let out a soft sigh. Those arms immediately wrapped around Loki's shoulders, keeping him safe against his breast. "You're right. It would be a priceless advantage for us. A quicker way to end the bloodshed." His brow furrowed and he leaned forward, lips against Loki's scalp. "But I had only just got you back. Now you expect me to let you go again..." 

Loki smiled, if only to himself. "Not for long," came his answer. "When this fighting is over with, I shall be standing with you. Be it lover or friend... I know where my place is now." Again, they shared a kiss. 

"But this leaves the question," Thor continued. "Battlefield sits between us and the forces of Jotunheim. How will you return to them without causing uproar?"

"I believe that will be my job."

Both sets of eyes turned, almost too quickly, to see a figure at Thor's tent. Sif - her armor sullied in battle - stood at its mouth regally. Her sword hung limp at her side, her shield clutched tight on her arm. Soaking wet and weary, Sif stepped into the light, just in time for Thor to sit up straight, a look of defense on his face.

"Sif..." He turned between the man in his bed and the woman he himself set to marry. At the moment, no words could find him. Thankfully, none needed to.

Sheathing her sword, Sif held up her hand. A tired smile sat on her lips. "I heard it all. I thought it only appropriate now to interrupt. Forgive me for that." Stepping closer, she leaned over the two, giving Thor a sweet, meaningful kiss. "And I think Loki's plan may just be what we need."

The two Asgardians turned to Loki, who also sat up, subconsciously pulling the furs to his chest. Despite Sif's clear lack of jealousy, this whole situation was teetering on the uncomfortable side for Loki. Regardless, he spoke. "Do you believe that? Truly?"

"I do," Sif replied. She stood straight, hand on her hip. "Our advantage was missed during the attack on Asgard. If we have that chance again, we must act on it, no matter the cost." Leaving Loki with that little tidbit, she turned to Thor. "I will take Loki through the field and back to the Jotun side. There are ways to avoid prying eyes."

"I can help," Loki offered. "My illusions had never been good for more than a laugh. I promise you they will be of great use to us now."

"But." Her smile had dropped as she approached Loki's side. "Be warned, prince of Jotunheim. Swear that you will keep your word. Because should I find that you have betrayed my king, there will be no stopping my blade on its way to your heart."

A bitter smile came to Loki's face. "I doubt you'd have to try very hard. I would rather face death than hurt him again."

Sif nodded. "Call for me when you are ready." Leaning in, she and Thor exchanged one last kiss before Sif stood. Her armor clunked as she vanished from sight, leaving Thor and Loki to their private moment together. The two men exchanged glances, though not for long. One arm looped around Loki's shoulders, reeling him in as close as he could come. Thor laid kisses along his crown.

"Swear to me," he muttered. "Swear to me that you will return."

Loki nodded against his lips. "Only the death can keep me away." Looking up, he and Thor fell into a deep, impassioned kiss. One that, Loki had hoped, would have the love of a thousand kisses before it. With it still lingering on his lips, Loki moved to dress, but Thor kept him where he was.

"Please." Loki was wrapped carefully into his arms. "Just a bit longer." Loki obliged without fail.

Their last moment of comfort before the true danger began.


	23. Trust

Thor stared out into the vast, empty landscape of the battlefield. In reality, it stretched only a few miles, with Laufey's camp little more than dots in the distance. In Thor's mind, it might as well have been to the ends of the Earth. It was early in the morning. Too early. In a time where yesterday and tomorrow were one and the same, Thor stood in his cloak, watching the silence before him. Just hours ago, so many men and women had filled the air with screams of death. Where now only grey sat, red had once stained. Strange how quickly the world could change after a few short hours. The rain, by now, had stopped. The world was left cold. Frigid. As though time itself had no purpose there. How long would the stalemate last until one side flinched? A day? A month? eternity? Unable to get any sleep, Thor's only comfort was the weight of his hammer. It sat, loyal, on the side of his hip. It too hummed with impatience. In a game such as this, Thor had been taught the value of waiting. This, however, did not mean that he liked it.

Taking his eyes from the landscape, he turned instead to his soldiers. Some forced themselves abed. Others could not bare to sleep, as he had not. The wounded were taken near the back of the camp to be healed in hopes that they could fight again. As for the dead... there would be no funerals here. Should warrior fall in the name of Asgard, their tombstone would be only what their memory could provide for their loved ones. Further he turned in towards the camp, settling only when he landed on his tent. Though now was not the time for it, his heart ached at the sight.

Currently, Loki was re-dressing in the Jotun armor he came in with. His shadow was barely visible against the walls of Thor's tent. After their love making, Thor had wished, in spite of everything, to keep Loki with him for as long as he was able. But their time together could not last. As Sif had pointed out, it would be in their best interests to avoid the dawn. Thor could fill his day with lamenting the war, or his lost love, but what man could he be then? What king? All he could focus on now was finding the end to this war, and the salvation of his people. There was no room in ruling for his own needs.

Eventually, Sif and Loki approached him. Hooded cloaks covered their bloodstained armor. Thor turned to greet them with somber eyes. "Laufey's men are weakest to the east. There is a small ravine that you can travel through to the camp. It lowers you at least two feet, so it can be used for cover-"

"Thor." Sif put a hand on the man's shoulder, causing his words to die. "Rest, my friend. We will succeed."

Loki, sensing that Thor was not at ease, spoke next. "This _will_ work. I have a servant whom I can swear to secrecy. He will help us send information back and forth."

Thor's brows creased. "A servant? You never mentioned a servant. Loki, if we are to manage this, no one must know."

"You misunderstand," Loki continued. "In my reading, I came upon a powerful spell. It renders the target literally speechless should they be pressed to reveal the truth. Even under duress he can not alert my father of our actions. Through words or otherwise."

Sif turned, staring at the colorless sky above. "We should move quickly. There are a few precious hours left."

Thor felt a surge within his stomach. He knew a man engaged should be wed should keep his soon to be wife above all else. Yet to do so would be a lie that he could not live with. Thankfully, Sif did more than understand his position. Seeing the uncertainty in his face, Sif stepped aside, allowing he and Loki to have their time together. Words failed him then, but questions did not. Would this be their last meeting together? Would Laufey discover them? And should they be revealed, would Loki manage to escape before it was too late? All of these and more weighed him down with worry he had not felt in some time. Loki eased his mind by stepping forward, his slim hand going to his cheek. On his lips, the ghost of a smile lingered. One that sang of those old days together in Asgard. 

"Have faith," he said. "With this as our plan together, we shall end this bloodbath."

Thor glanced at Sif, who pointedly turned her head away to speak to a soldier. There were times that women knew him better than he did. Returning to Loki, Thor leaned in, giving him a meaningful kiss. When they broke, they did so slowly. "All I wish is for you to return."

Loki felt a bit of pain in those words. Not because he did not believe in them, but because he knew them to be true. His smile gone, Loki shifted his eyes from Thor's face. "Yes," he said softly, "I should dread to miss your wedding."

Thor felt a knife twist into his heart. Yet he had nothing to defend himself. Loki knew he had no room to speak, but his jealousy was ever present, like a hidden serpent. While they had gotten him what he wanted, Loki had started to regret his words in the tent. The thought of giving Thor away like that... He had thought he could manage it. Just so long as they were together in some small way, he could withstand the sight. After having him again in what felt like ages, Loki knew he could not.

"Loki-" Thor began.

"I do not blame you." By now, Loki's face was pointed away. "These are troubling times. The promise of marriage is stability needed for a new king and his people."

Thor let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping. He had no words to lift Loki's spirits, other than what had been said. So, he did what he could. Leaning in, he placed his lips on Loki's crown one last time. "Come back to me," rumbled his deep voice, "and perhaps that promise may change."

Loki wanted to believe him. He wanted to fantasize about himself, standing at the alter, waiting to take Thor's hand. He knew better. With a nod, the two shared one last kiss before Loki turned, following Sif to the exit of the Asgardian camp. Thor remained behind, eyes fixed on the two retreating figures, until they were gone completely in the darkness.

For a while, neither spoke a word. Both had their eyes focused on the road ahead of them, the Jotun camp creeping ever closer inch by inch. As they walked, Loki had managed a small spell to hover before them like an invisible shield. It hummed softly with every step. From the front, one could see only grass and dirt disturbed by the unknown. They were as good as invisible. Loki was able to eat some proper food before leaving camp, but now that his nerves had begun to work against him, he was starting to regret it. Even with the shield up, there was still the inevitability of reaching the Jotun camp, and what that would bring. He glanced beside him, Sif's gaze as straightforward as it had been since their trek began. He knew that Thor had more or less forgiven him. He could only wonder if Sif could do the same. 

"So." Loki pat his thighs, lifting his eyes to the ever lightening sky above. "You're looking well. You never did look right without armor. Not many women could look dashing with twenty pounds of metal on their breas-"

"Does this conversation have a point to it?"

Sif's voice was cold and cutting. It dug deep, Loki taking a few moments to organize himself. Licking his chilled lips, he turned from her. "I see you are not in the mood for aimless chatter."

"I rarely am."

"Why is that? There is so much importance in it."

"I find nothing important about what is meaningless."

"I fear that is your greatest flaw."

Stopping dead, Sif turned to Loki, who followed suit. "Well then," she said calmly, "of the two of us, I doubt I am the greatest offender, am I?" Loki opened his mouth to speak, but Sif held up her hand. "Spare me your explanations. I assure you I have no interest in your excuses." 

Loki began to scowl. "You seemed rather open minded back at camp. Or was that merely for show?" 

"It was for Thor's sake, yes. He needed to see that I did not begrudge him for the will of his heart. To do otherwise is to hurt him. Something I will never consciously do."

The Jotun prince let out a huff. "Well I thank you, oh kind woman, for your most _tender_ sympathy. But here, look now! We are without the man of our affections, so do feel free to speak your mind."

Rather than grow furious, Sif's brows twisted in confusion. "You think that is all this is?" she asked.

"You are envious of me, are you not?" Loki retorted. "Just as I am of you. You hold his hand, and I, his heart. Alas, we have found one another at odds."

But slowly, Sif began to shake her head. "Is your world truly so simple?"

"Do you deny it?"

The woman hesitated, her eyes closing in thought. "You say I am envious," she finally began. "In a way... yes. I am. But not in the manner of which you speak. I do not begrudge affections between you. It is your... _power_. The ability you have over him. You bring him joy, or despair. Strength or vulnerability. If I had such a power, I would not hesitate to see him smile every day until his last. And yet, with such a gift in your hands, you have let his whole world crumble. He will never be who he was because of this. Because of you. So yes. While I do not fancy him as my husband, I am jealous of your position in his heart."

Truth be told, Loki had not been prepared for that. He stood there, rather blind-sighted by such an admission. So much so that he felt shame rise anew, and forced his eyes away. "You are a woman who knows no filter."

"You act as though I should be sorry."

Feeling his anger leave him in a sigh, Loki lifted his head to her. "No," he said. "I should. And I am." Sif's grimace lessened, and Loki went on. "The past has happened. I must carry with me the weight of all that transpired. Thor may forgive me, but I do not know if I ever can." Regaining just a bit of his pride, he stood up straighter, his eyes firm as he spoke. As a master of illusions, Loki had never seemed so honest. "But I _will_ strive to unmake the damage I have done. If there is anything in me you may trust, trust in that."

"Why?"

"Because the life I had with Thor was the best I could ever hope for. My father has taken that away from me. For this transgression, I will never forgive him."

A moment of silence sat between them. Sif seemed to be balancing his words. Debating on their validity. While she had a list of reasons not to, Sif decided to trust them. She nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I shall do so, then."

They had turned to continue walking, when the sound of horse hooves caught their attention. Looking passed the twisted image of their shield, both Loki and Sif spotted a small back of horses rushing towards them. Laufey's soldiers rode with spears in their hands, their voices carrying along the battlefield. They were looking for him.

Turning sharply, Loki put his hand on Sif's heart. In a sudden flash, deep red blood was now splattered along her breast plate. For a moment, Sif was confused, and turned to Loki for an answer. "Drop!" he hissed. " _Now!_ "

Realizing his play, Sif fell to the ground, face first. With her body limp in the dirt, she closed her eyes, ears sharper than ever as the scene played out before her.

Loki, bending down, took away their invisible shield before popping up from the ledge of the ravine. The horsemen spotted him instantly as he waved his hands back and forth. As they grew nearer, Loki realized that they were being lead by Jarvi. Loki's act had been the right one then; at close range, his illusions had never managed to trick his brothers.

Jarvi's big, hairy stallion was pulled to a halt as Loki hoisted himself onto the grass of the field. The second prince smiled. "Loki, my sweet baby brother. Here we were hoping you'd perished. Tell me, did you survive by hiding beneath a rock?" 

Even though the soldiers in tow were not permitted to laugh outright, Loki could feel their snickers beneath their helms. Dusting himself off, Loki pulled himself into the empty saddle of the extra horse brought with them for this very thing. "For your information, brother dear, I had been captured during battle." 

"A pox on them," said Jarvi lazily.

Loki continued, ignoring the sarcasm. "I only barely escaped my binds, and traversed the field to return before the Asgardians came looking for me." 

Jarvi leaned back in his saddle, a smirk on his lips. "Ha! Perhaps there is some fight in you after all. I'm sure father will be _ecstatic._ For once, you are not a total disappointment."

"Your compassion overwhelms me, Jarvi."

Turning his horse, Jarvi motioned the others to do the same, once more facing the Jotun camp. "Come. There is much to discuss before the next attack." 

Loki's heart leaped in anxiety. "For which I will be included, will I not?"

That had Jarvi hesitating. He cocked his brow, eying Loki a moment. "Yes... Don't tell me you've become interested in the strategy of war so suddenly."

Loki realized his brother's suspicions and quickly covered his tracks. "The Asgardians captured me as though I were a pawn. Paraded me like a prized pet. I should like to get my revenge before we slaughter them next."

Jarvi hesitated, judgement lingering in his eye. After a tense moment, he turned, and the little party made their way to the Jotun side. Sif remained as still as possible until the sounds of hoofprints were no more. Lifting her head just so from the crevice, she saw the retreating Jotun group as nothing more than specks on the horizon. By now, the sun had started to paint the sky with a brightening purple. Sif, with the light of the new morning to guide her, made her way back to her own people. Thor would be needing a report soon.

The game had begun.


	24. Conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Formatting should be fixed.

"So you slipped away? Without any notice?"

"Of course. When have you known me to be conspicuous?"

"Other than that new face of yours."

"Making light of my appearance. Never change, Bjarke, your sharp wit would be too much missed."

"Would it? Thankfully my blades are _sharper_ , little brother-"

" _Boys._ "

The three younger princes turned to their eldest brother. Frey, not surprisingly, grew tired of his siblings' eternal bickering, and thus put a stop to it for the thousandth time that day. Currently, the Laufey family sat, all four brothers and their father king, in the royal tent behind their lines. It was a wide thing, with enough space to allow a grand dining table, and a few servants to boot. At the head, Laufey sat, taking little part in the conversation. Instead, he allowed Frey to do most of the questioning; How had Loki escaped? How had he been captured? So on and so forth. Loki thought perhaps his father was gauging the truth in his words. To distract himself from Laufey's unwavering gaze, he had called for food, and made work of his meal as his brothers spoke.

Frey, pushing his glasses up, sighed through his nose. "And you left with no helpful information then? No knowledge on what might aide us about their ranks?"

"Only but what I have told you," Loki exasperated. He sawed off a chunk of cheese, placing it with a wafer and finishing it in two bites. He waited until he swallowed to continue. "Forgive me if I did not make a point to stay. I assure you I had not been there for a leisure visit."

"No," said Jarvi. "That was last time, wasn't it?"

Anger flared up in Loki, if only to keep down his anxiousness. "How many times must I repeat myself? I was a servant there, nothing more." He didn't dare look to his father. But now more than ever, he felt Laufey's unruly stare. "There was no Holiday in Asgard. I was damned to serve in a place of heat and unyielding brightness. Tell me again how you think _that_ constitutes as leisure."

His brothers had no answer. After a moment of silence, Laufey stood. All eyes looked to him, except, of course, for Loki's. "So you have nothing of use to tell us." It was not a question.

Loki clutched the cheese knife tighter. "No, Father."

Laufey did not bother to speak longer than that. Turning from the table, he left the tent, his heavy footfalls fading into the night. Loki closed his eyes, letting the tension in his breast lessen. His fingers unfurled, his white knuckles loosening on his cheese knife.

"Hmph." Bjarke folded his thick arms, sucking on a sharp canine. "Well we know this much." He smirked at Loki. "Surely they neglected to feed you."

Loki paused, having just readied another slice of cheese to eat. Blinking, he looked down to his spread of food. Without realizing it, Loki had consumed half a cheese wheel, a whole tray of wafers, half a bowl of fruit, and a leg of pheasant. Yet he did not feel the least bit full. Was it nerves? Or had his time in Asgard really influenced him that much?

Embarrassed, Loki set aside his knife and cheese, clearing his throat. "I've learned to treat every meal as my last," he excused. "We are at war, after all."

"Certainly," Bjarke jeered. "And should you keep up this moto, little brother, your last meal it shall be. Even an Asgardian would not miss such a bloated target."

"Funny. You'd think they would have hit your fat head by now."

Jarvi snickered at the back and forth, while Bjarke looked ready to give Loki a good whack for his troubles. Frey, it seemed, had had enough. Standing, he put his hands behind his back, taking on an elite, kingly air. "That should suffice for now," he said. "You should rest, Loki."

Loki hesitated. "Of course," he began. "But Jarvi mentioned plans...?"

Frey cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, he had mentioned you have finally shown interest. We will meet at dawn tomorrow. This should be more than enough time for you to regain your strength."

"What little you have, anyway," Bjarke threw in.

Loki wanted to add on some sort of witty comment, but knew that Bjarke was looking for a fight. Had he no ulterior plans, Loki wouldn't mind wasting the time to humiliate his brother. Today, staying silent was for the best. There was far too much to do. The four brothers stood, Bjarke and Frey excusing themselves. Jarvi, having kept quiet through the entire conversation, finally turned to Loki to say his piece.

"Well," he began, "looks like it's time for you to retire, sweet brother."

"It seems so." Loki turned to leave.

"Fortunate that you have no excessive wounds from your small time as hostage."

"Fortunate indeed." Taking an apple from the table, Loki walked to the tent flaps. "Almost too fortunate."

Loki stopped. Fear cropped up in his heart, and his fingers tightened on the fruit. Rounding to Jarvi, he glared.

"And what do you mean by that?"

Jarvi, sitting on the edge of the table with no shame, shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, really. Perhaps it is simply your time for the Gods to shine Their protection upon you. Or perhaps you have fate working in your favor."

"Out with it," Loki demanded.

Jarvi's smirk grew, hands moving behind him to prop himself up sitting.

"Do you remember that cat you had when you were young? The feral one. What was it called?"

Confusion hit Loki's face. "Eluf?" he recalled. "What about him?"

"Mm." Jarvi rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Mangy thing, Eluf was. Scraggly, pugnacious little thing. I thought about shooting it so many times... I hated it. We all did."

Jarvi's little tale did nothing but stir up Loki's temper. "What is your point?"

With a graceful push, Jarvi hopped to the ground, casually approaching Loki's side. He took the apple from Loki's hand, taking a bite out of it himself. "You see," he said, chewing. "That damned beast was resistant. Loud, destitute... Yet whenever we demanded you get rid of it, you refused. Because it was your pet." Jarvi held the apple to his lips, eyes glinting. "No matter how it saw itself, it was still yours. You still fed it. Loved it. Even if it did not show love back."

  
"And?" Loki snapped.

Jarvi took another big bite of Loki's apple, chewing rudely before answering. "I wonder," he said. "Has someone made you their pet, Loki?"Loki felt his insides freeze over. He tried desperately to keep his face still, but knew that his eyes betrayed them. Yet if Jarvi knew the truth, he did not say it. Instead, he put the apple in Loki's hand and left.

The weight of uncertainty rested heavily on his shoulders. Part of him wanted to take a horse in the middle of the night and escape to Thor's side. Perhaps a month ago, Loki would have done just that. But what he was trying to accomplish was so much greater than any desire for Thor's love. And so, because of its importance, Loki resolved to stay. Letting the apple drop to the ground, Loki left for his own tent.

Ignoring the looks of the Jotun soldiers, Loki found his barrings before too long. Carr, sitting dutifully outside of it, sprung up the moment he saw his master. He bowed his pudgy head, all smiles, as usual.

"Welcome back, My Lord!" he greeted. "Gods bless you that you have returned in one piece! Though I knew no different."

"Inside." Loki pushed the tent flap aside, and in the two went. Loki went to his side table, grabbing a decanter of ice wine and a fresh goblet. Carr stood behind him, continuing to chatter.

"We certainly feared for your safety," he continued, "but I knew I would see you again, my Prince. For what other man has your cunning? In fact, I think it must have been as easy for you to outwit the Asgardian louts as it would be to outwit a pig!" 

Loki, having poured a small amount of wine, made sure his back was turned, blocking his work. "Really?" he asked, prompting Carr to continue. "Alas, my brothers do not feel the same." As he spoke, his hand hovered over the wine. He allowed Carr to wobble on, concentrating on the goblet. A fine, green mist left his fingertips, falling to the ice wine below.

"Your brothers have their own ways," Carr said simply. "Each one is appropriate in their own right. But we all know that you, My Liege, are the cleverest of the lot!" He stopped, having readied himself to praise Loki further, when the prince turned, offering him the goblet of enchanted wine. Carr blinked. "Prince Loki?"

"Come, do not look so surprised." He approached, putting the goblet in Carr's hand. "You have been a good servant to me. This is your reward for your faith."

Carr smiled, but seemed uncertain. "I... thank you, my prince. But this drink is far too exquisite for the likes of me-"

"That is for your master to decide." Loki grew impatient, pushing the goblet further towards him. "Drink." He hesitated. "Please."

That seemed to convince him. Smiling brightly, Carr drank the wine with no question, licking his lips in delight soon after. "Mm! So rarely am I allowed such a treat. Thank you High-" He stopped, quite abruptly, as Loki grabbed his arms. Carr's eyes widened, his smile dropping. Loki's eyes had begun to glow.

" _Tunge av bly. Tale gått tørr. Dine ord er din herres å kommandere._"

Carr felt a sudden shudder to his body, and on impulse, he pulled away. His breath was harsh, his head light. Loki stood, solemnly. "You will listen," he said lowly. "And you will not repeat what is said. You will know, but you shall never speak unless I will it." He took a breath. "We are going to end this war. And we are going to betray my father to do it."

Carr, nearly speechless, stared at Loki with his mouth agape. "We... we... we are going...?"

"The Asgardians do not want this bloodshed. Neither do I. The only way my father will yield is if he is defeated. Therefore, we will act as informants to the Asgardians, so that they may have the advantage to do so." Carr still had no eloquent words to say. Loki stepped closer. "By doing this, we shall save countless lives. We shall bring about a world of peace in one that has known only war. But I cannot do this alone." He laid a hand on Carr's shoulder.

"I asked you then, before we started this damned war. What would you do if you knew the old ways were wrong? This betrayal may lead to my death. I am sorry to say that now, it may lead to yours. But we will live in a world of death and destruction if we do not take that chance." Carr swayed slightly. In his eyes were confusion and hurt.

 

"Prince Loki..."

Loki hesitated. "I am sorry," he finally said. "But as my servant, you swore to serve my purposes. I could not risk asking your permission." That shock had finally started to drain away, leaving behind a sadness that Carr could not shake.

"You are betraying your home..."

"I am _saving_ my home. What good is a kingdom if its people are dead? What good is family if you know you will see them suffer? This is not about us and them, Carr. It is about doing what is truly right. And that is not an easy act to accomplish."

Deflated, Carr finally sighed. His head drooped, as did his shoulders. "You truly need me?"

"Yes. We must get word to the Asgardians. I cannot risk leaving the camp, but I can send you in my stead. I will give you letters and you will deliver them to Thor himself. No one else will due-"

The servant sighed, cutting Loki's words. That smile picked back up on Carr's fat lips. "My Lord," he began, "you did not need to enchant me to swear to secrecy. If you are in need at my help, I would give it without question."

Loki's defenses melted, and a true smile dawned his expression. Now cupping Carr's shoulders, he nodded in thanks. "You are a better man than I could ever be. Thank you."

"In any case, the wine _was_ excellent." Carr's smile widened. "Perhaps we can share it in earnest now!"

"Mind yourself."

"Yes, Sir."


	25. Loyalties

"And so, in conclusion, with the Asgardians still awaiting the reinforcements from Vanaheim, their west flank is, by far, the weakest." Frey, thin pointer in hand, slid a wooden figure across the flat map on the table. The figure stood proudly, carved from blue frostwood, and made to look like a noble Jotun soldier. It settled in front of a plain, wooden figure no doubt meant to represent the Asgardians. In Loki's mind, he imagined it to wear a red cloak, holding a mighty, silver hammer. 

"So when do we attack?" Bjarke asked. His trunk-like arms were folded firmly against his chest. Despite his lust for battle, Bjarke never did take to the mundane nature of military planning. For the sake of their father's pride, however, he attended. Laufey, as ever, remained to the side, watching with unreadable eyes. Frey had thus far taken up the position of leadership in his stead. Laufey, it seemed, was more interested in observing than leading, but Loki was sure his monitoring did not go without instruction.

"We do not," Frey answered. "Not yet, in any case. Fighting the Asgardians straight on is not in our best interest. Even with our advantage in size and numbers, their aptitude for war keeps us both in even footing. What we need to do is dismantle them. Destroy food supplies, perhaps take out a few soldiers that might prove a problem in the near future."

Bjarke snorted. "Never met an Asgardian who was a _problem_ before."

"Do not underestimate your enemies, Bjarke," said Frey. "It may lead to your undoing."

"Besides," Jarvi jeered. "I think I know a certain new _king_ that might give even you a good run, brother dear."

Loki felt his heart leap at the mention of Thor, but kept his face blank. Instead, he focused on the battle map in front of him.

A moment of silence passed. Once more, Frey's voice picked up. "Loki." The youngest snapped his head up, worried almost that his yearning was too obvious. "Your thoughts? You were the one who wanted to attend this meeting. You've been uncommonly quiet."

Loki felt his throat go dry. In truth, he was quiet because he had been focusing on every detail of his father's plan. Anything that would help Thor and his forces, he needed to make a mental note of. He only hoped that Carr was bright enough to repeat what information he gave him verbatim. Realizing now that his acts were suspicious to his brothers, he readjusted himself and spoke with authority.

"Nothing I saw would counter your plan," he said plainly. "Trust me, brother. If there was some kind of flaw, I would have told you by now."

"Hmph." Bjarke leaned against the tent pole behind him. "How fortunate that you have taken so quickly to strategy, little brother." 

"You will not mock me when my information proves invaluable," Loki responded. "Unless of course you would rather you go into battle with no knowledge of their weaknesses."

The three brothers looked at one another. Jarvi, with a quirk in his brow, leaned back on his stool with his hands on his thighs. "Enlighten us then," he said. "Pray what are we missing in our plan of attack?"

"I told you," said Loki. "Had I seen a flaw I would have-"

"Yes, but surely there must be a strategy we are neglecting," he goaded. "You have spent so much _time_ with them, dear Loki. Grace us with your _intimate_ knowledge."

Loki felt himself grow hot, but he ignored the sensation. Quick as a flash, he racked his mind trying to think of a way to spin the questioning into an advantage. "Frey is correct," he began. "What we must do is dismantle their supply. But to try and do so with too large a group would attract attention. It would not end well for us, I promise you." Walking closer to the table, Loki reached forward. Taking an Asgardian piece, he pushed it towards the west of the map. "We must have an insurgent group, small and undetectable, infiltrate their ranks. Their supplies are not as well kept as they should be. And with the absence of Vanahiem soldiers, all we need to do is slit a few throats to make our way inside." 

Bjarke smirked. "Cold, Loki. Very, very cold. I'm impressed."

Frey pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Tonight then, before they can wage another attack on us. Once we poison their water and destroy their food, we launch our own. Hit them before they are reinforced and-"

"Tomorrow night."

The royal brothers turned to Loki, who interrupted Frey's plan with his own. "Tomorrow?" Frey asked skeptically. "Can we afford to wait?"

"If we wish to keep our lives and make the most of our advantages, yes."

Bjarke huffed. "Waiting... Waiting is for cowards and leeches. I say we go tonight!"

Loki sighed loudly, plucking a Jotun piece from the battle map. "No, no, by all means, Bjarke. Go ahead. Strike tonight while the guards still roam. See how far you get before the Asgardian king finds you an apt target for his wretched hammer."

Bjarke clearly wanted to argue more, but Frey held up his hand, calming him. "Why?" he asked. "Why is it crucial that we hold until the morrow?"

Loki looked up from the piece in his hand. "It is true, they are in wait for reinforcements from the warriors of Vanaheim. From what I understood in my brief capture, they have been detained by Svartalfheim army. I overheard talk of sending scouts to try and help, but they do not leave until dawn. It is in our best interests to attack when there are less people to fight."

"And the Asgardians?" Frey questioned. "They will not engage us in battle between then and now?"

"Their reinforcements have not come yet. Furthermore, what military man sends only half of his troupes into battle? They are conserving their strength until the time is right for them."

Once more, Loki's brothers exchanged glances. But Loki's reasoning was sound. It would be a fool to ignore the one Jotun that actually spent time behind enemy lines. "Very well," Frey agreed. "Jarvi. You will lead a small party into enemy lines. Once there, you will sabotage their supplies."

Jarvi smiled wickedly. "Is that all? It shall be done."

"Chose your band wisely," Frey said. "Bring only those you trust and can rely on." By this time, Loki was starting to gather his books. The meeting would conclude soon, and Loki would need to speak to Carr as soon as he was able. 

"Loki." 

Jarvi's voice froze Loki in his place. Eyes widening slightly, he kept them planted on the war map. "Loki will accompany me," Jarvi continued. "I trust no one else for this position, as I'm sure you can understand. Can't you, brother dear?"

Loki turned to the others. All eyes were on him. Panic flared in his breast, but through some miracle, he kept his worry to a minimum. "I... do you believe I am truly fit for such a venture? Surely, there is another-"

"There will be others," Jarvi interrupted. "But as you so eloquently illustrated, no one here knows the Asgaridans as well as you. You are a natural choice for such a mission." His smile grew. "Or am I wrong?"

And there it was. Either Loki was to risk his own safety, or back out and give Thor no time to prepare for such an attack. While fear welled within him, Loki knew that his choice was clear. "Of course," he agreed. "I shall... do my best to be of use."

Jarvi nodded. "We leave at sundown tomorrow. Get some rest."

And so, the brothers dispersed. Laufey, as he had made a recent habit of it, left without a word. Frey and Bjarke made their way to the arsenal tent. Jarvi headed to the soldier's campsite. Loki, knowing time was precious, left the war tent and headed towards his own with swift strides. As instructed, Carr was waiting for him.

"Quickly," Loki said, the two vanishing within the flaps. "We haven't much time..."

~~~~~~~~~

Thor stared at the night sky. The clouds had scattered away this night, leaving so many bright, twinkling kisses against the black of night. They glittered as so many diamonds, leaving Thor with a feeling of melancholy. Were his mother and father watching from above? Were they proud? Or afraid? It had been said that those who passed on into the next life were gifted with infinite wisdom. If only Thor could ask them if he was making the right decisions.

"Is it a beautiful night, My King?"

The deep, dark voice of Heimdal pulled Thor from his thoughts. The blind oracle stepped beside him, his golden walking stick resting in his palm. His strange, blind eyes were cast into the darkness, still as the night itself. "It is quiet," he continued. "One can only assume the calm is given to beauty."

Thor rested his hands on his hips, once more turning to the sky. "Yes," he answered. "But I take no pleasure in its loveliness."

"Ah. And why is that?"

"I worry."

"As you should, Highness. It is a fool who does not fret in times of war." Heimdal tilted his head. "But why would such an act deprive you of admiration?"

"What good is beauty without safety?" Thor replied. "I have no time for such things."

"Mm. Then it is no longer only I who is blinded, My Liege."

A wry smile came to Thor's lips. "You have never known to curb your honesty, my friend."

"To do so would be useless."

"Indeed. Walk with me." Gently, Thor took Heimdal's arm, and the two walked along the encampments. "I worry," he continued, "that I have entrusted the wrong man."

"A reasonable cause. Would this man be of Jotun origin?"

"He is." 

"And he has been trusted to aid our fight against his very people."

Thor sighed, resting his hand on Heimdal's. "He has betrayed us once before. Back when I held him as my true beloved. He caused the deaths of so many, my own father included. It stands to reason that I cannot fully trust him now, even though he has sworn to earn it."

"It does," Heimdal agreed. "It is a logical assumption, and one backed by previous evidence. Is this what your mind tells you?"

"My mind cannot decide what to tell me. This thought comes from my own fear."

"And what does your heart say?"

Thor chuckled sadly. "My heart? I would do well not to listen to that. It'd surely cause me trouble."

"Would it?" Heimdal's smile grew. "Legends would not be legends without trouble, wouldn't you say?"

"So I am to trust Loki then?" Thor asked. "Believe me... I would want nothing more than to believe his word whole heartedly."

"You love him as such?"

"Yes. More than I realized. Even now." 

Heimdal was thoughtful a moment, his hands now sandwiching Thor's own as he was escorted. His walking cane hung from his finger and thumb. "Do you know the story of how our worlds drifted so far apart?"

Thor blinked in surprise. "No," he said. "I had only ever known adversity between us. Was there such a time where this was not so?"

"Yes. Years before any of us breathed the summer air. So long ago that most have chosen to forget that time. Once, our world and the world of the Frost Giants were bound in friendship and trust. Our crops for their silks, our drink for their furs. Friendship budded between fire and ice. It was a peace that lasted a century."

"What happened?"

"Jealousy," said Heimdal. "Petty jealousy. It came to pass that the two houses of these worlds would join in matrimony. As children, the young prince Egil of Jotunheim was promised to the hand of the princess Sabra of Asgard. But as they grew older, Sabra discovered love outside the palace walls. A young maiden by the name of Ida caught her eye. She had no titles, no lands, and no prestige, but Sabra grew to adore the girl. When Sabra's father passed the crown to her, she made Ida her wife. To Egil, this was a personal insult. And so, he ceased trade with the Asgardians. When his people starved, he blamed it on Asgardian selfishness. His rhetoric of our barbarism twisted the good faith the people of Jotunheim had in our world. From that sour seed sprung a wilted plant, kept alive only from the soaked poison in its roots. It was thought that peace between our realms would never be seen again."

Thor was quiet throughout the story. Finally, he said: "Do you believe it may be possible again?"

Heimdal stopped them. Turning to Thor, he clutched the king's giant hands in his own, his blind eyes closed. "I have seen days of prosperity ahead of us, my king. The blood that stains the earth will be washed from this land in a new dawn. This war shall not last."

Thor grew hopeful. "And what of Loki and I?"

Heimdal had stopped. His eyes slowly opened, and a strange look came to his face. Thor felt a pang in his gut, which twisted painfully within him. However, before he could ask, a soldier approached them.

"My King," she began. "A Jotun has crossed our boarders. He claims to be a messenger for Prince Loki."

A thrill shot through Thor and he let Heimdal go. Straightening his tunic, he nodded. "Escort him to my tent. I shall speak to him in private." The soldier bowed out and returned to her station. Rounding back to Heimdal, Thor clutched his shoulder. "Perhaps you will not tell me of my own fate," he said. "But tell me this. Will Loki know happiness in this future you see?"

Heimdal hesitated. But with a smile and a nod, Thor's question was answered.

Thor felt his own melancholy ebb away. Leaning forward, he kissed Heimdal's forehead, thanking him for his loyalty and trust. With no more words spoken between them, Thor returned to his tent. There, Carr stood in waiting, as dutifully as you please. As Thor approached, the king expected some manner of disrespect. But this was not so. Lowly, Carr bowed his head, hand on his heart.

"King Thor," he announced. "I have come under my master's orders. He is confident that I shall not be harmed." Carr slowly straightened, uncertainty in his eye. It seemed that no matter how much he trusted Loki, he was still weary of Asgardians.

But Thor eased his fear with a hand to his shoulder. "And you shall not be." Carr's face melted with relief. "I am, if anything, a man of my word. Come. I am sure there is much to discuss."

 


	26. Ambush

The night seemed cold. A concept Loki knew was strange to the men he rode with. But the icy air was not what prickled Loki's skin or caused his shoulders to shiver. It was the chill of the unknown. Carr had not returned from the Asgardian camp. Loki did not doubt his safety. In fact, should Thor have kept Carr on his side of the battlefield, there was no doubt a reason behind it. Perhaps there were too many Jotun scouts that would spot Carr's return? There were the fears that Carr had not made it to Thor's camp. But, the fact that Laufey did not march him out to have him executed attested that he had not been caught. So, Loki did the only thing he could. Kept his mouth shut and his eyes focused. There would be much ado tonight. 

"Nauseous, little brother?" Jarvi's voice pulled Loki from his focused uncertainty. He turned to the older, their horses walking at an even, undisturbed pace. The night was dark, and the Asgardian camp was barely visible in the distance. "Or has a taste for battle hardened your stomach?"

"One wonders how you are so famed for your stealth, Jarvi," said Loki, "if you keep flapping your god forsaken lips."

"I realize that the concept is strange to you, but being quiet only matters when people are around to _hear_ you."

"And you know that there are no Asgardian scouts about because...?"

" _Because_ , oh dear little Loki, I have had this part of their camp watched. They have been removing soldiers, just as you suggested. We shall have no problems this night." 

As if on cue, a distant thunder clap rumbled the earth, a few horses bouncing in surprise. Loki turned to his brother, who clutched the reigns on his own steed all the tighter. It was no mystery what thunder had come to mean in terms of this war. After all, who could forget the king who shot lightning itself from his magic hammer?

Loki couldn't help it. He smirked. "Perhaps I am not the only one who is queasy?" 

Jarvi sneered. With a jab to his horse's ribs, he trotted forward, ignoring the echo of the storm ahead.

They rode until they deemed their party close enough to dismount. The western half of the Asgardian camp bled into a small thicket of trees, and the horses were easily hidden within the forest. In complete silence, the team of Jotuns - all small in stature, as Jarvi requested - slipped their way to where the Asgardian supplies were kept. Boxes of meat and fruit, barrels of drink and salt. Blankets, furs, medicines. All in a clump together, and all completely unguarded.

Jarvi laughed lowly, his bow at hand. "This shall be easier than I thought." He eyed the surroundings. Not a soul was seen. Not even torches were lit. It seemed to any onlooker that the Asgardians were so sure of themselves that no guards were even needed. Motioning the Jotuns to stay, Jarvi slithered through the trees up ahead. He knocked an arrow and positioned it. Letting the drawstring go, the arrow flew to the air, striking one of the crates dead center. There wasn't so much as a stir from the world around it. That settled things then: there were no guards to contest with.

Jarvi turned and motioned the Jotuns to follow. His band of saboteurs quickly went to work, descending on the supplies like a plague of locusts. Loki, with staff in hand, lingered near the edge of the trees, eying the darkness.

Where were they?

"Loki." Jarvi turned to his youngest brother. "I did not bring you along to loiter."

"Merely observing our perimeter," Loki replied.

Jarvi looked ready to bark an order, but was interrupted by one of his men. "Sir." With wide eyes, the Jotun brought Jarvi a bag clearly intended for flour. With a frown, Jarvi tipped it over. From it poured nothing but dirt. 

Jarvi's eyes widened. "It's a trick. Fall back. Fall back!" But it was too late. The sky lit up as if daylight itself washed over the night. Lightning spread through the clouds as a spiderweb, and all the Jotuns withdrew into one another, forming a tight circle. Only Loki remained alone, looking through the dark wildly. And then, as if from thin air, a great cry came from all sides. The Asgardians, draped in black cloaks, descended upon the Jotuns. Jarvi was luck enough to roll out of the way of a spear and launch a few arrows of his own. A few of his men were not so lucky. It was chaos. While wiser men would have surrendered upon being surrounded, Jarvi's band of Jotuns knew that should they survive the encounter and return empty handed, a far worse fate awaited them by Laufey's hand. 

And then, through the thick of the trees, a bolt of lightning shot through the darkness, striking Jarvi in the chest. He flew back, crashing into the pile of fake supplies. His mind was woozy, and his vision blurred. But he was awake. He lifted his heavy head, now with small streaks of blood from his brow, and watched as the King of Asgard made himself known.

Stepping into the moonlight, Thor passed Loki all together and joined the fray. Loki, Jarvi noticed, did nothing, and instead slunk backwards towards the shadows of the trees. Jarvi felt anger at his brother's cowardice. If he survived this plight, Jarvi made a note to teach Loki a very firm lesson later. In fact... perhaps he should give Loki some sort of _reminder_ while he had the chance. Gritting his teeth, Jarvi pulled up his bow and took an arrow from his fallen quiver. Still on the ground, he knocked the shaft to his lips, the arrowhead pointed straight for his little brother. Jarvi let the arrow go. It cut through the air, promising to pierce Loki's stomach within a second of launch. But as it came within inches of him, it struck something else all together.

 _Twang!_ The arrow ricocheted from the flat, metal surface of Thor's hammer. Just before it reached its intended target, the King of Asgard held out his weapon and blocked the deadly arrow. There was a second where all three were suspended in shock. Loki stared at his brother, as did Thor, who could only stare back. Fear was on Loki's face. Shock was on Thor's. And Jarvi... Jarvi looked like he could not believe what had just transpired.

Realizing that he must act fast, Loki turned on Thor and yelled out. His staff swung swiftly towards Thor's head. Thor dodged with ease (mainly because Loki's staff was a good inch and a half away from his head) and rounded to the Jotun prince. The two went back and forth, jumping out of the way of one another's attempts. An easy enough fight when neither party intended on landing a hit.

Eventually, they found themselves behind a tree, well hidden from Jarvi's line of sight. Just for good measure, Thor landed his hammer on a trunk, causing it to snap in half and careen down to one side. It was stopped by the branches of another, and rested diagonally from its severed stump. Now that they had space to talk, they did so swiftly, and with low voices.

"Do you think he suspects?" Thor asked.

"I do not know. I may be able to convince him otherwise but..." Loki shook his head. "Where is Carr?"

"I could risk letting him return in the daylight. I was hoping to 'capture' you tonight and then you would return together."

Loki smiled grimly. "That does not seem like an option now."

"What do we do?"

Loki thought for a moment. He hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but he realized that with Jarvi suspicious, there was no other way. He nodded firmly. "Right." Leaning up, he gave Thor a quick kiss. "This may hurt."

"What?"

Loki had no time to explain. Drawing his staff back, he landed it on Thor's stomach. A flash of magic was shot from its tip, launching Thor clear across the woods and into a tree, falling roughly to the ground below him. Quick as he could, Loki rushed back into Jarvi's sight, his staff held high. He slammed it to the ground, and a wave of magic erupted from it, knocking all off their feet.

"Quickly!" he cried. "Jotun forces, retreat!"

There was a scramble, and Jarvi's men raced to follow Loki back to their horses. A great cheer from the Asgardian's echoed from behind. Loki hopped onto his mare, and what was left of the Jotun insurgence raced back to their base camp. Loki could feel the burn of his brother's eyes against him every step of the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Breathe, Your Majesty." 

"I am breathing."

"You are tense."

Laufey turned his sharp eyes to the man who stood beside him. A healer - perhaps one of Jotunheim's best - but these days, it was even more unwise to test Laufey's patience. The healer felt a twinge of fear and readjusted his spectacles. "Right... Thank you, Majesty." Laufey turned away, and the healer rested his hand on Laufey's back. A blue light came from the small Jotun's hand as he gently moved it along Laufey's spine.

Frey, watching the entire exchange, had been silent for most of it. For a year now, Laufey had kept his health a secret to all but his oldest son and the healers who tried to aide him. They had tried everything from potions to herbs to spells, and yet, Laufey continued to deteriorate at alarming speeds.

"How is he?" Frey finally asked.

The healer sighed to himself. "I fear the war has made the illness worse..." Laufey turned to the healer, his brow deepening with displeasure. "N-not that you are a weak man, My Liege, certainly not!"

"Out with it," Laufey demanded.

The healer twitched, removing his hands. "Y-yes, Sire... Your... The stress of this battle has caused damage to your body in ways I still cannot comprehend. Even now, what is inside you crumbles away. I could feel it." Laufey closed his eyes, jaw tight.

"How long shall I live?"

"S-Sire-"

" _How long?_ "

The healer flinched and looked over to Frey. Laufey's eldest gave him a nod, urging him to speak true. The healer swallowed. "I doubt you have more than a few months, Majesty. At this rate..."

The tent grew silent. The healer did not need to finish. Within a few months time, Laufey, King of Jotunheim, would be dead.

A commotion in the camp caught their attention. A voice, demanding an audience with the king, grew closer and closer to the tent flaps. Before they had time to react, Jarvi burst in, blood on his brow and sweat on his skin. "Father-!" He froze. This was not the situation he expected to see.

Laufey sat on his bed, shirtless, while the healer stood beside him on a step to reach his height. Frey, leaning against Laufey's chest of drawers, unfolded his arms, eyes wide with apprehension at the sudden appearance of his younger brother, who seemed confused at the very least. "Father?" he repeated. "What...? Did something happen?" 

Laufey said nothing. Instead, he stood, towering over his small son. He took only one step to reach Jarvi. Without a word of warning, he struck Jarvi across the face, sending him to the floor. Frey jerked upright, and the healer pulled away in fear. Jarvi lifted his head, struggling for breath. He stared at the giant before him, a mix of anger and fear in his eyes. 

"You will not barge in unannounced again," said Laufey lowly. "Do so, and I shall take penance from your hide."

Jarvi's face contorted into boiling fury. Yet he did nothing. No child could strike their parent, especially not the children of Laufey. Blood or no, the king was not above making an example out of those who crossed him. "Why are you back so soon?"

Jarvi remained on the ground, spitting blood to the side. "They were waiting for us. It was a trick-"

"So not only have you interrupted me unannounced, but you have also come to tell me of your failure." Jarvi remained silent. "Be gone. We can only hope the Asgardians do not take advantage this. Disappoint me a second time, and I will have no more need of your services." Jarvi slowly stood to his feet. Rage and humiliation swept over his face. Silently, he turned on his heel and stormed away.

Laufey was still only a moment before a caught disrupted him. He quickly grabbed a cloth on a nearby table and covered his mouth. The coughing became worse, and soon he was back to sitting on his bed, if only to keep himself from falling. Frey watched, his face blank. Only those who looked closely could see disgust in his gaze.

"You should not have hit him," he said.

Laufey sneered, removing the cloth from his face. Blood now speckled his lips. "Be still, or I shall discipline you, too."

Frey's frown grew deeper, and he stood tall, straightening his robe. "You are not the only king present, father."

The elder snorted. "Ah yes, King of the Northern Mountains. Remember who _gave_ you that title."

"I _earned_ it," Frey responded. "Soon, it seems, I will not be the only one earning a new name."

Laufey grunted, slowly lowering himself back into bed. "And look at my choices. A brutal dog, a disrespectful snake or an abomination with the face of our enemy. I curse your mother for the heirs she left me with."

Frey's hand tightened on the sword at his hip. "Perhaps the fault lies with the father."

"Enough of this. Go. Your plan failed tonight. Discover why."

Frey nodded to the healer, and Laufey was left alone, with only the sounds of a distressed army to accompany him through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of camp, Loki's heart was hammering. Before he even had a chance to try and make up a story to his brother, Jarvi left for Laufey's tent. What would he say? Would he accuse Loki of spying? Of being in league with Thor and the Asgardians? Was their planning all for naught? Loki remained as calm as he could, going through the motions of grief that their plan had not worked. The one good thing about his fear was that it was easy to feign stress to those who asked him what had gone wrong.

And then a figure caught his attention. Jarvi was swift in his steps back to them. Loki prepared himself and stood tall to face his brother. However, the closer Jarvi got, something else alerted Loki's eyes. "Jarvi..." Confusion was on his face. Jarvi now had a split lower lip - something he did not have before seeing Laufey.

Jarvi stepped within a foot of Loki, his voice low and serious. "How did the Asgardians know that we were coming?"

Loki hesitated. "Your guess is as good as mine, brother. Perhaps your scouts were spotted."

"Then why not kill the scouts on sight?"

"You should ask the Asgardians. They would know better than I."

"It was more of a case than a simple ambush. Their supplies were swapped for decoys. It was a _direct_ reaction to our plan." He edged himself closer, his upper lip starting to curl. "How. Did they. Know?"

Loki's heart pounded in his throat, which was growing dryer with every passing second. He refused to break his eye contact. "I told you," he said slowly. "I have no answer."

Silence sat between them. Loki did not dare look away, and Jarvi dug through Loki's gaze, trying to find a hint of deception within it.

"What happened?"

Both brothers turned to see Frey, standing before them with his brow drawn tight. "You have failed. Why?"

Jarvi eyed Loki, who in turn kept his face as devoid of emotion as possible. Now was Jarvi's chance. He could spill his suspicions. Frey was a king, with all the powers and respects that Laufey had. Half of Laufey's forces were comprised of men from Frey's own kingdom. If he wanted, he could convince Frey to turn Loki's entire life upside down.

"They saw our scouts."

Loki turned, eyes wide at Jarvi's answer. Jarvi continued. "After consideration, it's the only answer that makes any sense. No doubt they figured what we were planning."

Frey sighed, hands on his hips. "We shall reconvene tomorrow. Get some rest. Get your men in order." With that, Frey turned and walked off, leaving the two youngest to themselves. Loki rounded on Jarvi, but the elder spoke first.

"You are my brother," he said. "There are certain understandings that come with that position. But know this, Loki. If I discover that you are the cause of this, I will  _not_ be so inclined to take your side." 

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you'll just shoot at me again?"

A smirk sat on Jarvi's lips. "Just trying to keep you on your toes."

Soon enough, Loki was left to his own devices. While he needed rest, he found himself incapable. When Carr returned to him in the early hours of the morning, the two lay awake and spoke in low voices.

For things had become very serious indeed.


	27. The Message

 

> _To His Majesty, King Laufey of Jotunheim,_
> 
> _At present, our forces march upon the Vanaheim soldiers sent to reinforce the armies of Asgard. Our strength in numbers far exceeds their own - it is estimated that there are two elves for every man en route. In due time, we shall take them as prisoners with ease._
> 
> _It is at this stage, then, where we offer you our assistance. We are fully aware of the power of your adversaries, and are prepared to support your efforts in conquering the kingdom of the sea. Now is the time for negotiations, of which I sadly cannot attend, as my soldiers are in constant need of leadership. Our conditions are thus:_
> 
> _We shall acquire land on your eastern boarder. Until the time when we deem our services are fully compensated, we shall levy a 10% tax on your trades. War, as I am sure you are aware, is an expensive venture, and I cannot afford to have my armies go hungry. Furthermore, my niece, Kennoris, will be betrothed to one of your heirs, to lock our agreement in more than words alone. In exchange for meeting our terms, we offer you our full assistance in obliterating the barbarians off of the face of this earth._
> 
> _These terms are non-negotiable._
> 
> _Signed,_
> 
> _King Malekith of Svartalfheim, first of his name._

 

Laufey looked up from the letter in his eyes and turned them instead towards the elf before him. A scrawny thing, with a long, hook nose and beady eyes. While most cowered before the grandeur of Laufey's presence, this _child_ had the look of someone far beyond their rank and privilege. The very look of the boy's face made Laufey sneer.

"What is this?" he asked quietly.

The messenger cocked a thin eyebrow. "I believe it is a letter, Your Majesty."

"We did not ask for Malekith's aide."

" _King_ Malekith believes that you need it."

A very dangerous look fell over Laufey's eyes. "Does he now?"

"Odin may be dead," the messenger continued, "but the tales of Thor are extraordinary. One might even say unbelievable."

"Then do not believe them."

"Ah, yes. However, King Malekith puts merit into the word of soldiers who have seen battle. And with this not being his first war, one can only assume that Thor would make a terrible adversary for you and your giants."

Laufey looked back to the letter. "Tell me," he said, "has your beloved _king_ seen battle?"

The boy straightened haughtily. "My King's experience is not in question-"

"If he expects to be paid with _my_ land and _my_ coin, while his disgusting family soaks their blood in _my_ lineage, I should say that his experience is very much in question."

Such an answer made him bristle, his high cheeks hot against his dark skin. "King Malekith is a fine warrior, whose armies are beyond praise-!"

"Who has not won a single battle." Laufey stood, letter now crushed in his fingers. "And yet here he is. Coming to my aide as though I were a child lost in the woods. I have never been more insulted." 

Clearly, the messenger wanted to say a few choice words, but even he knew when to mind his place. Laufey eyed the letter once more, his face layered with utter disgust. Finally: "Shall I send King Malekith your polite decline?"

Laufey returned his eyes to the boy. There was a frightening look to them, one which had a tendency to wither away lesser men. Even the impudent dark elf began to shy away from where he stood. Crumbling up the letter, Laufey turned and held it to an oil lamp. The wick danced beneath the paper, setting the parchment aflame. The blue light turned a putrid green as it kissed the ink. When Laufey let it go, it burned up completely, fluttering away as nothing more than ash.

"No. I have a message for your proud king."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I told you louts we should have attacked."

"You said that."

"Perhaps I deem it worth saying it a second time?"

"Or a third?"

Bjarke, his hand flat on the battle map, sneered at Frey, who stood opposite him. " _Your_ pathetic idea left us running with our tail between our legs! As far as I am concerned, that gives me the right to be as provocative as I please."

Jarvi, casually seated off to the side, continued to dip arrow heads into a small bowl of green liquid beside him. "Perhaps you should show us your methods, dear brother? Go on. Charge the Asgardian boarder with King Thor in your way."

"Feh!" Bjarke swatted the air. "That measly child is nothing more than a boil on this war. If he ever _did_ stand in my way, I shall very easily _pop_ him." He paused then, watching Jarvi set his arrowhead along a row of several others like it. "And what in the name of the gods are you  _doing_?" Loki, who had remained silent (he didn't feel the urge to push his luck after the night prior) turned to observe as Jarvi dipped another head in the liquid. 

"Unlike you, Bjarke, I enjoy a certain amount of finesse in my strategy. Not all skulls are blessed with your _tenacity._ " He held his currently dipped arrow aloft, letting it shine in the blue candle light. "No matter how strong the man, a snake's bite is deadly to all. Wouldn't you agree, Loki?" He turned his eyes to his youngest brother. Without knowing it, a look of horror was on his face.

Poisoned arrows. No matter Thor's strength, there would be no escaping his fate should one of Jarvi's shots strike true. knowing his brother's skill with the bow, Loki understood the probability of such a thing happening. A horrible image of Thor came to his mind: one of him withering in pain. Crumbling to his knees. Dying. The venom destroying every living piece of his soul. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain ran through Loki's body.

Eyes wide, he suddenly curled forward, clutching his stomach. His abdomen cramped in a way he could not describe. It was as though his inner muscles were suddenly stabbed by an icy hot knife. It was so sudden and so painful, Loki did not know how to react other than let out a short, guttural moan.

The others turned to him, Frey standing up straighter. "Loki?" The oldest approached him, hand hovering close to Loki's shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you-?"

"Fine." He battled with his breath, trying to settle the pain in his body. Slowly, it began to ebb away. "I am... Something must not be agreeing with me."

Bjarke snorted. "Hardly surprising. I've seen wully cows that eat less than you do these days."

Ignoring Bjarke's distasteful comment, Loki straightened himself out. His face was pale from the pain, his jaw clenching as he forced control over it. "Forgive me, Frey." He kept his eyes closed. "I'm afraid I must excuse my-my-" As if the pain wasn't enough, Loki felt a wave of nausea hit him. He quickly covered his mouth and forced it back down. Now, all three of them stared at Loki in concern. Was he poisoned? Ill? And if he was, would he spread his sickness to the camp?

Without a word, Loki strode from the war tent, making his way to his own. Carr, who had been busing himself cleaning, looked up in surprise at the sight of his master. "Prince Loki-?" He could not so much as finish a sentence. As soon as Loki entered the tent, he fell to the chamber pot at his bedside, took ahold of it with both hands, and heaved. A sickening splatter filled the air as Loki alleviated himself of that morning's breakfast. Carr, not sure of what to do, stood helplessly behind him, gripping his hands. After a few more heaves, Loki was finally able to breathe. He sat on his knees, gasping for breath. His stomach gurgled and jumped in protest, but thankfully had nothing else in it for Loki to vomit.

"Water," he finally said.

Carr acted quickly. Rushing to the wardrobe, he poured out a goblet of fresh water and rushed it to Loki's hands. Loki gulped it down, trying to wash away the horrible acid taste in his throat. The water, thankfully, stayed down. Carr also brought himself to his knees, his eyes worried.

"Are you sick, My Liege?"

"I do not know," Loki replied. "Perhaps? I did not feel ill earlier. Even now I-" He paused, another heave in his throat. This one was dry, and once it was over, he wiped his mouth with a spare cloth that had fallen from his wardrobe. "Even now I do not feel sickly. Merely... ugh..." He felt his forehead. While sweat sat on his brow, he did not feel feverish. "Test me, Carr. Am I sick?"

Carr laid his hand on Loki's forehead. Confusion was added to his look of worry. "No, My Prince. I can feel no fever." He nibbled at his lip. "Tea, perhaps? I shall brew you tea." Nodding at his self-assigned job, Carr left Loki and started his personal fire pit. Once the coals were hot enough a kettle was placed upon them. Loki, his body weary, hoisted himself to his bed and laid against the pillows.

"Damn," he hissed to himself. "I left before I was able to hear their plans..." He turned to Carr. "You must be my eyes and ears today, Carr. We cannot allow them to attack without Thor knowing."

"Of course, Master." Carr tended to the coals. "It is important that you rest until you have your strength again." The kettle bubbled softly, beneath it, the crackling of coals hummed a calming song. One that lured Loki to rest his busy mind. "You should take better care of your health, Sire. If I should be so bold." Carr smiled smally over his shoulder and turned back to preparing Loki's tea cup. "I have noticed you are off color of late." 

Loki laughed. "More than usual?"

"I did not mean your pale skin, Master." _Fsshhrruuwwururuu_. The tea kettle began to whistle, and Carr removed it from the heat. He poured the water through a cloth strainer where tea leaves sat. Once the cup was full, Carr proceeded to steep the leaves properly. "You have been restless. I have seen you cope with sudden pains more and more frequently. Acceptable had you suffered injury or illness, yet to my knowledge, you have experienced neither. I had been meaning to say this, Master, yet your appetite has not subsided, so I did not worry too much about it." Tray in hand, he approached Loki and set it on top of his bedside table.

Loki took the warm cup in his hands, blowing against the steaming surface. He managed a delicate sip. Instantly, the warm drink softened his insides, melting away the uncomfortableness and pain. Loki smiled against his cup. "Thank you, Carr. This is perfect." 

"Your happiness is all I wish, My Prince." Perhaps had they not grown so close of late, Carr would have remained quiet. But with worry in his eye, he knew he could not. Reaching out, he boldly laid his hand on Loki's arm. Loki looked up, lips parting just so. Yet he did not push Carr's hand away. "I fear that something is wrong with you, Prince Loki. You are a man of so much knowledge. Is there not something that would help you learn of this condition?"

Loki knit his brow. His first instinct was to wave off Carr's suspicion. This was no time to be getting sick, and indulging in such fears would surely be a most unwelcome distraction. But over the months of service Carr had given him, Loki knew he must take at least some consideration to Carr's distress. And so, turning his head away, he eyed a small stack of books he had brought with him.

"There." He pointed to it. "The one on the top, do you see it? Bring it to me."

"Yes, Sir." Carr did as he was told, and handed him an old, brown tome. The title on the front cover was in Jotun. "The old language?" Carr questioned. "I did not know there were Jotuns who could still read the ancient words."

Loki smiled. "It is required of my brothers and I. A way of keeping tradition, I suppose." He flipped open a few pages, the intricate designs and illustrations fading from their yellowing pages. Loki was left alone for a time, slowly losing himself in a book he'd read before. One that he found, remarkably, in the library of Asgard, translated into the Common Language.

It was an anatomy book. A picture of an ancient Jotun stared up at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The camp of Asgard had been busy ever since the attack the night prior. Loki's information had helped them, surely, but who knew when the Jotuns would try again? And would Loki have the time he needed to get word to the Asgardians before they struck? Thor, his cloak sweeping behind him, marched along the battlements and watched as his soldiers put up fences and wooden pegs to help reinforce their boarders. On his side, both Volstagg and Sif kept up with his swift stride.

"Any news of Fandral?"

"None," Volstagg grunted. "From what we know of, the Svartalfheim armies still have the soldiers of Vanaheim under their thumb."

"Which does not mean that he is dead," Sif added quickly. "Merely detained."

Volstagg grunted. "While I have faith that Fandral can hold his own, I do not pretend-"

"There is no pretending, Volstagg," Sif snapped. "Fandral is a fine warrior. If anything, Malekith would keep him alive as leverage against us."

Thor sighed shortly. "Comforting," he said dryly. Pausing, he rounded to the pair of them. "Lieutenant." Volstagg stood straighter. "If word is not reached in a day's time, take a handful of your finest in search the western roads."

"Of course."

"Sif. Have your people patrol the boarders at all times. Loki's information was vital, but we cannot rely on it alone. Now..." He paused when a soldier approached. "Yes?"

"Loki's servant has returned, My King."

Thor nodded. "Meet me again before too long. And then, I want you both to retire for the evening." A tiny smile sat on his lips. "I cannot afford to have my greatest warriors sleepy when the need for battle arises again." They returned his gesture, and with friendly nods, the three parted ways. Thor headed for his personal tent, where outside Carr was kept waiting. He seemed, if Thor had to put a word to it, distraught.

"What news?" Thor asked. "Does Laufey plan to attack again?" 

Carr was hesitant. "Perhaps we can speak inside, King Thor?"

"Ah. Yes, of course." Thor opened the flap, and the headed inside. "Are you hungry?" he asked. Carr declined. Thor instead took a piece of bread from his dish and sat down, eyes on his guest. "So? What news do you have for me?" Instead of answering, Carr handed Thor a folded piece of parchment. Thor frowned, taking it from him. "I thought Loki could not risk writing?"

"Yes, Sir," Carr answered carefully. "But this... this is something I shan't not say aloud."

Thor frowned deeper. Folding open the parchment, he began to read. With every new line, his eyes widened. By the end, his jaw hung slack, and tears misted over those pools of vivid blue. He turned to Carr. "Is this... _Can_ this be true?"

Carr kept his eyes to the floor. "He... he said that you yourself brought this issue to light once before-"

"I did." Thor returned to the letter. He read it over and over again. Loki's handwriting was shaky. There were smudges in the ink where tears had fallen. A great fear suddenly overwhelmed Thor and he stood to his feet in a flash. "He cannot stay there." Tears still wet his eyes, though none fell. "It isn't safe. He must be brought here for safety-"

"There is no way," Carr said. "Prince Loki told me himself that it would rouse too much suspicion-"

"Suspicion be damned!" he thundered. "Every _second_ he is there he is in peril! I cannot sit here idle while he-! While he...!" He held his hand out helplessly before falling back to his seat. A hand covered his mouth, tears now finally breaking free. They fell without shame, fear fueling each and every drop.

"Thor?" Both turned their heads as Sif entered his tent. Having heard his voice, Sif came quickly, attentive to her king's needs. "What is wrong?" She approached him in earnest.

Unable to speak, Thor handed the parchment to her.

 

 

> _My beloved,_
> 
> _This letter must be brief, for I fear taking much time to write it. Even now, I am afraid one of my brothers shall burst into my tent and slay me for these words.  
>  _
> 
> _When we were in Asgard, you asked me once if my mood had been caused by a strange ability Jotuns have only once every few generations. You pointed out that male Jotuns of magical heritage may possess the ability to bare a child. It is with profound joy and bitter sadness that I have discovered that I am one of those Jotuns._
> 
> _I carry your child with me, my love. For how long, I do not know, but it has affected me. I grow ill every morning, yet I crave food. At night, my loneliness for you sends me into pits of despair that I cannot fully explain. Uncertain, I preformed a test given to so many newly wed women of my culture. It is an herb test, one which never fails. It confirmed my fears._
> 
> _Were this another life, I would tell you this news with such happiness. Given our circumstances, I thought perhaps it would be best not to tell you. Forgive me for putting this weight on your shoulders. But I cannot leave this world with this as my secret._
> 
> _I do not know what to do._
> 
> _I am scared, Thor. I wish selfishly for your embrace._
> 
> _My dearest love, please forgive me,_
> 
> _Loki_

 

Sif could not believe her eyes. She re-read the letter, as if to see if some how the words had been misread. They were not. "Thor." She turned to him with a look of utter shock.

"He cannot remain there." Thor was shaking his head, fiercely attempting to wipe away the tears from his cheeks. "He- If they find out-!"

"We cannot remove him," Carr said helplessly. "To have him vanish would bring the wrath of King Laufey upon you and your people."

"He's right." Sif turned to Carr, though she did not seem pleased. "Fandral and the Vanaheim armies are still at the mercy of Malekith. If we are rash-"

"Rash? _Rash?_ " Thor stood, his tears rapid now. "Loki is in danger, do you not understand!? He suffers _alone_ , and now holds a burden that would likely cause his death! If you will not save him, then I shall go myself-!"

"No, Thor!" Sif lurched forward, grabbing his arm before he could reach for Mijolnir. "Please, listen to me, my King! If you go alone you will surely be slaughtered!"

"What do I care of my own life?! I would die a thousand deaths if it meant that Loki would be safe!"

"And what life would he lead if he knew he was the cause of your demise?!"

That stalled him. Miserably, he looked to Sif. The woman was steadfast, and refused to remove her eyes from his. Thor closed his own eyes, and in misery, let his head hang from his shoulders. For years, songs sang of his bravery, and his strength. What use were they to him now if he could not protect the one he loved most?

Sif, her heart aching for the man, turned to Carr. "There is a way to save him. He must be rid of it." Carr nearly gasped at the thought. Thor remained as he was.

"Wha...?" Flabbergasted, he looked between the two. "Get rid...? D-do you mean... You can't mean-!"

"There is a root," said Sif. "Blackroot. It is wild in the forests by the battlefield. It is as it sounds - black, with rings of white to distinguish it. Grind it to a fine powder, and boil it. That should work."

Carr looked like he might be ill. He turned back to Thor, trembling. "This is _your_ child!" he suddenly cried. "You can't just-!"

But, having collected himself by now, Thor lifted his tear-stained eyes to Carr's. "Trust that it is not what I want. Nor, I'd imagine, what Loki wants. But if it will keep him safe..." His throat clogged. "Or would you rather they both die by Laufey's hand?"

Carr could not argue. Loki told him once that Laufey knew of them, but for his own sake kept it a secret. If Laufey ever found out... Carr could only imagine the horrible punishment Loki would suffer. Would he be killed? Or perhaps kept alive, but the child itself cut from his body?

Thor, his heart aching, stepped towards Carr. Hand placed on his shoulder, he spoke quietly. "Find a way to bring Loki to me. To bring him to _safety_. Otherwise... this is his only option. Please." Faced with the ugly truth of the matter, Carr nodded. 

"Yes... Your Majesty."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Svartalfheim armies, after capturing the traveling soldiers from Vanaheim, had made camp for at least three days now. Their dark, colorless tents set a perimeter, with banners that depicted a bright star. Their captives were bound and kept in the center of the camp, fed only when necessary and often degraded by a few rowdy elves. Other than that, the prisoners were left relatively unharmed. One in particular was set aside from the rest.

Fandral, stripped of his armor and weapons, was chained to the post of Malekith's own tent. Three days prior, when the soldiers were taken over, Fandral was instantly recognized as being one of Thor's cohorts. Malekith made sure that the blond swordsman lived. After his second escape attempt, Fandral was moved to Malekith's personal tent as his prison.

Currently, Malekith looked over his battle plans, sipping a goblet of fine wine, as was his habit. For the day and a half he was imprisoned there, Fandral observed Malekith; his habits and mannerisms. He was a particular fellow, with long, perfect white hair and clothes that didn't dare have a stitch out of place. His most curious feature, Fandral found, was his skin. Half of his body, the left half, was burned black, in contrast to the pallid, almost purple skin of his right half.

"How's the wine today?" Fandral asked. Malekith looked over his goblet. "Smells delicious."

"It is," Malekith said simply. "I'd offer you a taste, but I fear it's far too rich for your liking."

Fandral chuckled. He sat against the base of Malekith's tent pole, the chains long enough for his hands to sit idly in his lap. "You'd be surprised. My tastes cover a very _wide_ variety of flavors."

Malekith, his eyes continuing to read the maps before him, gave a short chuckle. "Yes. I heard something like that about Asgardians. Your _preferences_ seem to know no bounds."

"Is that right?" Fandral tilted his head down. "Strange... I heard something very similar about you."

Malekith froze. While his expression did not change, his eyes remained as they were, stiff and still. "And what have you heard?"

Fandral shrugged, leaning back against the pole. "Nothing much. You really shouldn't look so put off, Highness. Asgard is not so strict when it comes to discerning tastes. We think no less of you for it."

Malekith sneered, standing with the wine goblet in his hand. "How dare you, cretin? I may need you alive, but I shall have your tongue hacked out should you continue to spew slander against my character-!"

Fandral laughed, his head falling to the side. It was a handsome, genuine laugh. One that Malekith was shocked to hear come from his prisoner. "Peace, Highness. I mean no disrespect." He closed his eyes. "Why I myself have found favor with all sorts. Women. _Men._ "

"I am not so barbaric."

"What is so barbaric about that?" Fandral turned to Malekith, his eyes piercing. "This is what I have never understood. Dark Elves, Jotuns... All so strict and _serious_ when it comes to love. Where is the spark of romance, of adventure? It must be so exhausting to hide yourself from the world."

Malekith flared, but for a second, he seemed to have no answer. "I am hiding nothing."

"Mm." Fandral cocked his head, smiling wider now. "Typically... that is usually said by a man with secrets."

The conversation would have gone on, but a disturbance was heard at Malekith's door. "My King! Laufey has responded to your summons!"

Malekith walked around his desk and approached the entrance swiftly. "Come in," he ordered. The soldier did so. In his hands, he held a sack. His eyes were worried, his face pale. Malekith narrowed his eyes at the sack. "What is this?"

The soldier hesitated. "This... this is Laufey's answer, Sire." With hesitation in his reach, he handed the sack over. Malekith took it, and with a furrowed brow reached inside. His eyes widened. Slowly, he pulled his hand back up. In it, he gripped a clump of hair.

The head of the messenger boy stared back at him.

Malekith's face twisted with fury. He threw the decapitated head back into the sack, shoving it into the soldier's arms. "So be it." He rounded to Fandral and reached down. At first, Fandral was worried that he might take his anger out on him. But rather than strangling him, Malekith did something astounding. He unlocked his chains.

"Up," he ordered. Fandral stood, dazed. "Gather the Vanaheim people. I want you to deliver the good news."

"Good news?" Fandral repeated. Malekith nodded.

"We will accompany you to King Thor's boarders."

 


	28. Escape

The sunlight was harsh in those early morning hours. Back in Asgard, sunrises were gentle, angelic things. Scenes of divine beauty and poise, to which the lovers of the world awoke to with joy. But there, on the muddy battlefield between kingdoms, the sunrise was nothing more than the promise of horrors to come. Harsh light cut through the fog of the new day, shining down on blood that had since dried over brown. The bodies that littered the earth had begun to decompose, caked with mud and filth from the world around them. They had been consumed, and were little more than additions to the field that was their graves.

Sif stared out into the field, her brow drawn in thought. She had tried to sleep since that night, but found it fruitless. So much weighed on her mind. In Thor's time of troubles, she knew that it was her duty to support him by any means necessary. He was a man of strength, and of perseverance. But no matter how strong the pillar, a building could not be held by one alone. And so, Sif had taken it upon herself to saddle more and more responsibility within the camp. Namely, she had kept her eyes on the threshold opposite theirs.

It had been two weeks since the last battle with Laufey. Three days since the Jotuns had tried to sabotage their supplies. While such an act alone was not a move of war, Sif had a feeling that one would be initiated soon enough. She watched for any sign of an oncoming attack. A stray soldier, the sound of hoofbeats in the night. And yet, none came. Was Laufey biding his time? Or had there been something that kept the Jotuns still? Marching along the frontlines of their camp, Sif spotted Thor's tent just a few yards away. It was dark within the folds, and Sif's heart grew heavy. 

She had seen her king through war, and loss, and pain. Yet she never feared for him until now. Thor had the might of a warrior, and the heart of a lover. Only a fool was blind to just who it was who owned that heart. Quietly, she lifted up the front fold of the tent, only to find the space within dark and empty. Worry budded within her breast, but she kept calm. Turning from the tent, she waved over a soldier.

"Where is the king?" she asked.

"Last I saw, he was near the eastern flank, Lady Sif."

"And when was the last you saw?"

"Last night, My Lady. Just as I started my patrol."

Unable to hide her uneasiness, she released the solider and made her way to the eastern wing of their campsite. Her eyes scanned the field of men, until finally, they landed on an oh-so-familiar form. Thor, with Mjolnir at his side sat on a crate, staring out into the Jotun camp. Sif approached, her eyes holding steadfast on his worn, tired face. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes, once so clear and vibrant.

"Have you slept at all?" Sif asked. Thor did not turn from his watching.

"I am far too restless," he answered.

"You spoke of my weariness once. It is within reason we discuss yours."

Thor sighed, eyes closing. "I am weary," he said. "But it is this war of which I tire. Is it so wrong to wish for happiness? For peace? Why must blood come before the calm?"

"It is the way of the world," said Sif.

"Then the world is due for a change." Thor rubbed his eyes, his golden hair now wiry and unkempt from battle. "Any sign?"

"None, Your Majesty. Nor word of the Vanaheim army, neither from Volstagg's progress to seek them out."

Thor let out a long sigh, elbows on his knees. His eyes remained distant, as though any moment now he would see what he was hoping to. "Then we can do little more than hope," came his somber voice.

Sif was still. Normally, now would be the time when she would agree, perhaps give a hug in support, and leave Thor to his thoughts. This was no longer possible. Pulling up a barrel, she sat beside him, staring out into the distance. "Tell me," she began, "when the war is over... do you plan to make good on your promise to me?"

Finally, Thor turned to look at her. A mix of confusion and sadness sat in his eye. "Do you mean...?" Sif did not respond, and Thor turned to stare at his hand. "I am a warrior. A man true to his word. Furthermore, I am a king." He returned his staring to the Jotun camp. "I promised to make you my wife. I shall keep it."

Sif sighed. "Even though you love another?"

"I do. But though I wish for his safety, and the safety of..." Thor's words caught in his throat. Had he continued, Thor would have spoken of the safety of his child. But he could not. It was too painful. "I will provide him a good life. A safe life. I will always treasure him. Perhaps I may even see him happy again with another."

Sif rested her elbows on her thighs, gaze imploring her king. "And of yourself?"

A ghost of a smile sat on Thor's lips. "You are a good woman. A fine soldier. I should only be so lucky as to marry you, Sif."

"You should," she agreed. After a moment's pause, she stood and dusted off her armor. "However, I have come to break your heart." Once again, confusion fell to Thor's face, and she smiled. "I cannot marry a man who loves another. And how dare you ask me to do so? For shame on you, Thor Odinson." Reaching out, she cupped his rough cheeks and gave him a long, sweet kiss. When they broke apart, her expression was kind and caring. "You are free, my king. And when your lover returns to you, you may promise him the life you both so desire. For I feel the same as you.

"I only wish for your happiness. Even if it is at the hands of another." 

Thor was stunned, his jaw slack. His first instinct was to argue. Their marriage was for the good of the kingdom; it was only good fortune that they were so well acquainted. But slowly, that selfish nature known so well to him in boyhood began to consume his heart. Eyes misting over, his smile returned to him. The two embraced, the strength of their friendship bonding them forever and always. In a way, it was its own love, and one that Thor would value until the end of his days. 

"Now." Sif pulled away, tapping his jaw. "Go, My King. You have not slept. An army is only as strong as the man who leads it."

Thor wiped his tears away. "Or woman," he added.

"Yes. Or woman."

With one last kiss, Thor took his hammer with him and retired to his tent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Carr returned, he did so to find Loki still in bed. It was very early in the morning, Carr arriving with the dawn. In one arm he carried a pale of water - a proper excuse for his absence. That is, if anyone bothered to question him. There was some sort of power to being a mere servant: no one of consequence ever looked their way twice. It was evident why sneaking in and out of the Jotun camp was so easy for Carr. He was as good as invisible.

At least... he had been.

Carr continued his way to Loki's tent when he passed by Jarvi. He bowed politely, not so much as uttering a sentence. This was not uncommon, and in fact, Jarvi barely registered him. But whether it was due to his own suspicions or Loki's odd behavior, something that day caused Jarvi to turn around and watch as his brother's servant entered Loki's tent. A curiosity piqued within him. He glanced around the camp. No one paid any attention. With silent steps, he approached, and hid himself within the cloth folds of the rounded tent.

Inside, Carr set the pale down and approached his master. Loki was on the bed, curled up and laying on his side. His eyes were rimmed with red. His face was haggard and more pale than it had been in ages. Along the floor, crumpled parchment sat like fallen snowflakes. He had started and re-started his letter to Thor a hundred times before he had something to give to Carr.

"Did you sleep at all, my Liege?" Carr asked.

"No," said Loki.

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Ill?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

Loki paused. "Perhaps..." Carr stepped up to where Loki's breakfast had been delivered. As he prepared Loki's meal, the prince sat up, his black hair wild. He pushed it back with his hand, smoothing it somewhat on his head. "How did he take the news?"

Carr's heart clenched. "As... well as he could have."

"Speak plainly."

Carr sighed. "He was devastated, Highness." Carr took the tray of food and walked it to where Loki sat. Loki, meanwhile, could not look his servant in the eye. He trembled where he sat, trying to force his tears not to arise. "He wishes only for your safety. But..."

"But we both know I am more a prisoner here than I ever was there."

Carr tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Yes."

Miserable, Loki pulled his knees to his chest, fingers gripping the roots of his hair. He let out a few shaky sobs. "Oh gods... What am I to do? What am I to _do?_ " Loki lifted his head and covered his mouth. Fresh tears slid down the sharp edges of his cheeks. "Why was I cursed this way? And why now?"

"If only I could answer those for you, Highness." He tried to gain Loki's eyes, but the prince would not look at his face. He clutched his knees, nails digging into his trousers. Soon enough, his entire face was hidden behind his legs. The pain and suffering in Loki's expression was clear. He was being driven sick with worry. Every second was a risk now, and every moment could warrant his death sentence. Which was why, with a heavy heart, Carr pulled out a small sack from his pocket. "The Lady Sif... she suggested something. It may... help you." He hesitated. "It may save your life."

Finally, Loki lifted his eyes. They lingered for a moment before Loki held out his hand. Gingerly, Carr opened up the sack and laid a severed black root in his palm. It was stout and short, with white rings against the black skin. Loki had never seen it before. "What is this?" he asked, holding it up to the light.

"Blackroot," Carr answered. "The Lady Sif suggested I gather it for you. If we ground it, boiled it, and if you were to drink it..." A tense silence hung in the air. Carr plucked up the courage to continue. "It would be rid of that child, Highness."

Loki's eyes widened. He tightened his fingers around the blackroot, feeling the weight in his hand. It was small and delicate, yet it held the heaviness of the world. Was this it? The end to all of Loki's problems? If he were no longer carrying Thor's child, if things were as they had been, Loki would be able to continue his work helping the Asgardians. They could win the war, and Loki could return to Thor's side, safe and sound.

So why did he feel so terrible?

Loki held the root to his heart, as though trying to stop its ache. "I see. It is better this way. Better for us. Better for..." His breath caught. "Better for Thor. He... he is engaged. Did I tell you this? He and the Lady Sif are to be married. Bound together forever in matrimony. The last thing he needs is... is for..." He gripped his head with his free hand, quaking against his knees. "The last thing he needs is a bastard child born of a Jotun."

Carr was torn the longer he stared at Loki. His stomach twisted at the sight of his master's pain to the point where he could almost feel his sorrow for him. How he wished he could take that burden away from him. If he could, Carr would shoulder his heartbreak himself. But such things were impossible. And so, Carr did the only thing he could think to do. In normal circumstances, such an act could have gotten him beheaded, but he cared little. Reaching out, he took Loki into his arms and embraced him.

Loki was still, his teary eyes wide at the hug. Servants were not allowed to be so bold, especially two men. But the warmth that was found within was enough to melt at least a few pounds of Loki's grief from his shoulders. After a moment, he reached out and hugged back, curling into his servant's hold. It was the hug of a brother, or a dear friend. 

"Thank you," Loki breathed. "Thank you for... all that you have done for me. I do not deserve your kindness." 

Carr chuckled, pulling from Loki, but keeping his hands on Loki's shoulders. "Everyone deserves kindness, My Lord. With out it, I fear our world would be a much darker place." 

Loki found a smile and wiped his face. Their conversation would have gone on, but a sudden shadow caught Loki's attention. Turning to his left, he spotted a figure shift just outside their tent. It was not a soldier moving from place to place, but a shadow Loki's size hovering just a few feet from their door. A thrill of fear jumped up his spine. Quickly, he stood from his bed and made his way to the front of the tent. Just as he swung the flap open, the owner of the suspicious shadow had made his exit. Loki watched in horror as the back of Jarvi's head vanished within the camp. 

Turning, he threw the tent closed and rounded to Carr. A whole new fear was on his face. "It was Jarvi," he said, his voice low. "He will go to my father. He-he will-" Panic began to set in. "They will kill me! Jarvi will not hesitate to feed me to Laufey's wrath!"

"Calm, my prince!" Carr rushed forward, taking Loki's hands. Acting quickly, Car popped his head out of the tent and looked around. "We must get you to safety," he said, coming back inside. Grabbing a traveler's cloak, he threw it over Loki's shoulders. "If we go now, we can find the forest before too long. We shall lose them in the trees!"

Loki nodded. It was their only chance to escape before it was too late. Jarvi was no fool, and while Laufey may have spared his son's life once for the sake of his own propriety, Loki did not think he would do so again. They took nothing but Loki's cloak and swiftly made their way to the trees. Loki kept his head down, his hood up. Walking along side Carr, no eyes passed over him more than once. They walked at a steady, quick pace, with Carr leading the way.

"We are almost there-!" Carr hushed. They picked up their stride, Loki seeing the trees come ever closer. Just a few more yards-!

"Loki?"

A figure stood before them, as if from nowhere, and stopped them both in their path. To his dismay, he saw none other than Frey staring down at them. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Is something the matter? You have been acting odd of late." He paused, a bit of commotion starting to stir behind them. Loki saw Frey begin to piece together all that had happened.

"Please," Loki said quickly. "Brother, let me pass. I beg of you."

"What...?" Slowly, he turned back down to the youngest of his siblings, his red eyes twisted with shock and disappointment. "Loki, what have you done?"

"Your Majesty." Carr stepped forward, his voice rushed. "If you have any love for your brother, you will let us pass! If he stays here any longer, he will undoubtedly be murdered by the hand of your own father!"

Frey was uncertain a moment. He looked behind them, teetering on his decision. All around the camp, soldiers were being roused. The echoes of: "Where is Loki? Find him! Find the prince!" came from every corner. When he turned back to Loki's face, he saw only the fear of a child, cornered with no other way of escape. Frey did not know what had happened, but he undoubtedly knew his father. His brow furrowed as he made his decision. Loki's blood would not be on his hands.

"Go," he said firmly. "Go now. And do not stop until you are out of harm's way."

Joy shot through him, but Loki wasted no time thanking his oldest brother. Taking Carr's hand, they fled into the forest, making their quick escape through the thick trees. Once inside, they ran. They ran until their muscles screamed and their legs pumped acid, and still, they ran some more. Behind them, the sounds of searching soldiers grew ever nearer. Loki focused only on his own breathing, his skin sweating beneath the dark cloak on his shoulders.

"Ah-!" Suddenly, Carr tumbled down, his foot rolling on an uneven root. Loki skid to a halt and turned back to his servant, dropping to his knees.

"Quickly, Carr, quickly!" He tried to help him up. "We cannot afford to hesitate!"

Carr, battling for breath, shook his head. "You are right," he said. "I will only slow you down. Go."

Loki's face fell. "Wha-? No! They will torture you to find out where I am-!"

"Which I will never divulge to them, spell or no spell."

"I cannot allow you to do this!"

The sounds of voices were growing ever closer. Frantic, Loki turned back to Carr, but all he was given was a smile. "It is not your choice, My Prince. Go. I will give you time."

Loki stalled, looking between the Jotuns that grew nearer, and the servant who was willing to give his life to stop them. With a broken heart, Loki said no goodbye. He jumped to his feet and continued running. He tried to ignore the swelling of voices as Carr was found. He did not even have time to weep for the loss of someone so dear.

Loki ran for ages. In the moments that he could not run any longer, he would find places to hide and catch his breath, usually within logs or behind rocks. While he grew further from the voices, he was unable to shake the fear. Any moment, he feared that they would come upon him and drag him back to Laufey. They never did. But finally, when his legs threatened to give way, he saw a gleam of bright armor in the sunlight. Arms high, he cried out.

The patrolling Asgardians were shocked at first, but quickly realized that this was no trap. They raced towards him, catching him just as his knees buckled beneath him. They caught his arms and rushed him behind the borders of their camp. "The king!" they cried. "Someone fetch the king!" Loki was taken to a place to sit, where he was given water and solace. But he had only a moment to breathe before a great, sweeping figure nearly ran to his side.

"Loki!" Thor dropped to his knees before him, those big arms pulling Loki into his breast. "Oh gods above! What-? What has happened? Are you hurt?" He helped Loki to his feet, one arm around his lover's shoulder. "Quickly, we must get you inside." Loki could say nothing, but instead relied on the strength of Thor to steady his heart.

Once they were inside Thor's tent, he removed Loki's cloak and examined his body. No doubt trying to find any evidence of abuse. "Did they harm you at all? Look at me, dear one." Thor rubbed a thumb beneath Loki's eye. "What happened...?"

Loki, finally allowed a moment to breath, unclogged the knot in his throat and began to speak. "They... My brother, Jarvi. He heard... he heard Carr and I speak. I saw him head towards my father... He-he was going to... going to..." Thor had heard enough. Wrapping his tight arms around Loki, he held him safe. It was the first time Loki felt so in so very long.

"I am so sorry," he breathed. "I should have never allowed you to put yourself in such a position. Forgive me, my love." He pet Loki's knotted hair. "And what of Carr?" Thor pulled away slightly, wiping the tears from Loki's eyes. "Is he...?"

Loki's chest knotted with despair. "He... hoped that staying behind would buy me time." A quiet moment sat between them. Gently, Thor laid their foreheads together, letting Loki breathe calmly. "They will kill him to try and get to me... He knew this... and yet..."

"He was a good man," Thor said softly. "We will honor his name tonight." He laid his lips along Loki's face, kissing him sweetly. "Oh my darling... To think that you are here,  _safe_... So many hours I feared for you." He took Loki's hands, kissing between his knuckles. "I will never let you leave my side again. So long as you are with me, I am your shield. For now and for always." 

Loki nodded, looking at their hands. "Please... I am so weary. I must rest."

"Of course, of course. Here." Thor settled him on the bed. "Lay yourself down. We shall speak when you have slept and eaten." After finding a comfortable spot on the bed, Loki took Thor's wrist, keeping him where he was.

"Stay with me?" he asked, his voice quivering. "Stay until I fall asleep. So that I know this is no dream..."

Thor nodded without hesitation. Climbing into bed with his boots on, he rolled Loki into his arms, the two settling down to finally close their eyes in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The _clip-clop_ of so many horses thudded along the dirt path through the forest. Mountains rose and fell beyond the tree tops as sunlight peered down to the traveling party. Going at a slow, even pace, the soldiers of Vanaheim and Svartalfheim mingled and walked together, a sight which did not seem possible just a day ago. Near the middle of the party rode Malekith upon a fine white steed. Beside him, riding on a brown nag, was Fandral. The bruises and scars left by the Dark Elves still remained, blossoming like purple flowers on his skin.

"So," Fandral began easily, "have you decided on what story to tell King Thor yet? Or have you unwisely settled on the truth?"

"I need no story," said Malekith.

"Oh no, of course not. You need only show up with his allies beaten senselessly by your orders. I am sure he will understand."

"Times of war are not ripe with friendship."

"Oh no? I beg to differ. Look at us now, for instance! Why never have I seen a pair of dearer friends than we two! And in such a short time. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I do not find you amusing, Asgardian."

"Pity! Amusement is one of my greatest talents." His smile grew knowing. "I am also gifted with the sword, as I am sure you are aware."

"Not so gifted as to keep yourself from capture," Malekith pointed out.

"Perhaps not," Fandral chuckled. "But I have not finished! For these are only two of my three most cherished talents."

"The third being?"

Fandral shifted on his saddle, poised and cocky. "I have been told I am an _excellent_ lover."

Malekith snorted, keeping his eyes on the road. "Have you? Sir, I am pleased to inform you that women have a habit of stretching the truths of their pleasures."

"Ah, this is true!" said Fandral. "Indeed, for the lesser men of this world, those who bed them more often are dishonest to humor their egos. But this is not so with _men_ , you see." As Fandral chuckled, Malekith went quiet. "It is far more difficult for a man to lie of his ecstasy than a woman. Thankfully, I have known the truth of both."

"You speak so plainly of such things," Malekith said quietly. "Is Asgard truly so wild? Is there no proper thought in your home?"

"But what is proper thought, if I may ask, Majesty? In Asgard, proper thought tends to surround kindness and compassion. The joy of living, the thrill of battle. Love and intimacy and a promise to do no harm onto the innocent. Is this the wild world which you are imagining, King Malekith?"

The elf was quiet, and within his stare, Fandral knew that he had struck a nerve. Perhaps, in due time, he would see those eyes light up with honesty. Perhaps not. Either way, he was happy to see him at least stall at the thought.

A voice caught their attention and they looked up from their path. A few soldiers had turned, signaling to Malekith, and in turn, Fandral. A soldier rushed to Malekith's side, who paused his mare in order to speak. "What has happened? Trouble?"

"Asgardian scouts, Majesty," the soldier said. "They had come to rescue the Vanaheim army. Needless to say that they are very confused."

Fandral laughed joyously. With no hesitation, he leaned over and elbowed Malekith's side in glee. "It seems we have added more faces to our party, Highness! What a tale this will make!"


	29. Paid in Blood

_Wh-chh-snap!_

"AGH!"

_Whi-ch-crack!_

"A-AH!"

"Stop."

Bjarke, his bullwhip ready for another go, lowered his hand (clearly, much against his will) at his father's order. Laufey, surrounded by his three remaining sons, stared at the servant of his forth with utter disdain. Upon capture, Carr had been silent. Laufey had interrogated the servant from the moment of capture until now. The sun, already, was starting to rise above the horizon. At present, Carr was chained by his hands and feet, strung up taut and naked. His arms stretched over his head, his legs wide beneath him. Blood fell from his open wounds like rivers. Skin blistered and split along his back, arms, and legs. As the sons of Laufey looked on to his torture, they were kept hidden within the walls of a tent. Though no doubt the soldiers would be keen to listen through the thin walls.

With a reprieve from the torture, Carr hung his head and drank in air. He would have fallen to the floor hours ago had the chains on his wrists not kept him upright. Bjarke watched him from behind, that cruel whip ready to bite again should Laufey command it.

"I shall ask you again," said the Jotun king. "Jarvi heard Loki speak of a child. A child of Thor. Does such a child exist?" Carr remained silent. "What has my son done in these past months? Has he conspired against his family and homeland?" Again, nothing. "Has Loki returned to the Asgardians? Does he plan to fight along side them?" The answer was the same.

With a sneer, Laufey nodded to Bjarke. With a great smile of glee, the eldest brother unfurled his bullwhip and cracked it against Carr's back. "AAGH!" Carr went rigid, trembling in his binds. Bjarke whipped him a few more times, carving off the blue skin in place of dark red blood. Laufey, staring at Carr's face, showed no change in emotion. Jarvi, off to the side, watched with a blank expression. The only Jotun that did not stare directly at their prisoner was Frey. Leaning against a tent pole, he closed his eyes, his arms folded across his chest. With every curdling sound, Frey did not so much as flinch. It seemed as though he was within deep thought, and not even the screams of their victim could draw him from it. But finally-

" _Wh-crACK!_ "

"AAGH!"

"We have done this for hours, father." Bjarke's whipping paused as all eyes turned to Frey. Looking to Laufey, he continued. "Clearly, he will not speak."

"He will," Laufey assured him.

"Loki is clever. It is likely that he has cursed this creature to be silent. No man of free tongue would keep it from wobbling after this."

Laufey glanced at Jarvi, who seemed to think that it was a very plausible explanation. Much to Bjarke's dismay, Laufey waved away his whip. "Very well then. This thing is of no use to us." Laufey turned away, perhaps to order a soldier to clean Carr's mess up. But just before he left the tent, a small, soft sound alerted him.

"... _you are wrong_..."

A chilled silence swept through the tent. Slowly, Laufey rounded back to Carr. The man was limp and wilted. So much blood was splattered on his skin that it barely any untouched patches of blue remained. In no mood for games, Laufey stepped forward, but didn't dare soil his hands by touching his prisoner. "Say again, cretin?"

Carr took a few long, languid breaths. His heavy head lifted only just so, dark saliva dripping from his split lips. "You... are _wrong_. _.._ " With as much strength as he could muster, Carr lifted his head and stared up at Laufey. There was no fear on his face. What more could they do to him? Even death would be relief by now. "You... you are consumed by... hate... But you are... wrong... about them. They wish... they wish for peace. You wish... to destroy your people in... war... and blood..." Carr let his head hang back down, unable to keep it up any longer. "They know... kindness... mercy... love... Your hate... will bury you..."

Laufey was seething. His eyes as bright as the blood on the ground, he could think of no response to dignify such a statement. So instead, he turned, and waved aimlessly behind him. "As I said. Useless. Do away with him." With that, Laufey exited, followed closely by Frey and Jarvi. Bjarke, whip aside, pulled out a long, obsidian knife from his belt. With no ceremony, he walked around to Carr's front and lodged it deep within his heart. Carr's eyes went wide, his head snapping up. His breath stuttered, his entire body shaking.

And then, he drooped. There he hung, suspended by his wrists, still and silent as the grave itself.

Carr was dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki awoke slowly. A stale taste of sweat lingered in his mouth. He kept his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to continue to slumber in his nest of comfort. But as his senses slowly ticked on, he knew that he could no longer ignore the world outside his own. His eyes, heavier than they'd ever been, split open. With a buzzing head, he sat up and looked around.

He was in Thor's tent, but the king was not present. A tray of food had been prepared and left at his bedside. Next to Loki's place in bed, the furs had been disturbed, but Thor's heat was gone. He must have risen with the sun. Loki turned where he sat, laying his bare feet on the carpet beneath him. The ground was frigid and hard, the frayed fibers scratching at his bare feet. Dressed in a comfortable set of trousers and tunic, Loki shivered at the morning air. A rabbit fur was soon around his shoulders as he began to eat.

The food was not terrible. It was, perhaps, the best that a war camp could muster. But Loki found he had no appetite. The day prior cycled through his head again and again. Regret weighed on his heart in a way he was terribly familiar with.

They should have been quieter. More careful. They should have found a more secluded place to speak. Loki should have enchanted the tent to keep in the noise. So many things he could have done, and yet he didn't so much as think these options through. They were so clear to him now. Perhaps if he had spent more time thinking, Carr might still be alive.

Loki clutched his arms, his eyes starting to itch. Carr. Sweet, loyal Carr. Loki's hands were stained so deeply with the blood of so many by now. But Carr? Carr's life soaked down to his very bone. He could scrub and scrub until his final days and he still could not wash out the red.

It was all his fault.

Miserably, Loki put his head in his hands, ignoring the tray of barely touched food. Why did the world have to be so heartless? Things like war and destitution, why did they have to exist?

In the midst of Loki's depression, a horrible sense of bile welled up in his stomach. Pulling from the bed, he yanked out Thor's (thankfully clean) chamberpot and vomited. It wasn't much, but enough to wind him and leave Loki gasping on his knees.

"Loki?" Before Loki had a chance to look up, Thor was by his side, having just stepped in to check on him. He crouched to one knee, grabbing a rag on his way there. "Here." Once he was cleaned and given water to rinse with, Loki was back on the bed, with Thor at his side. "Better?"

"No." He leaned against Thor's shoulder, staring off into the distance. Immediately, that big arm reigned him in, and the pair sat in warm comfort of each other. "Has Laufey attacked yet? Shown any force?"

"He has not," Thor answered. "But I believed by now he has figured out where you are. There is no other alternative, unless he believes you a coward." 

Loki's smile was grim. "He is not so wrong." 

"You are no coward, my love." Thor tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Says the brave King of Asgard."

"Truly, Loki." Thor pulled away just enough to see his face. "Laufey would have delivered a devastating blow had he sabotaged our food. Your actions helped us in ways I could not. You risked your life, and the life of-" His words stopped and his heart dipped. He had been about to say "the life of our child." But by now, he was certain, Loki had been given Sif's blackroot. A painful twist sat in his heart and he gently pet Loki's dark hair. "You risked your life," he repeated. "And when this war is over, we will know peace." 

Loki scoffed miserably. "Do devils deserve to know it, I wonder?" His eyes closed and he nestled as close as he could to Thor. They sat in silence a moment. "Am I keeping you?"

"No," said Thor. "Sif is on patrol. Laufey has yet to move. For now, the world is still."

A bitterness that refused to leave him once more settled in Loki's mouth. "She shall make a fine queen," he said, almost without thought.

For what felt like the first time in too long, Thor was given reason to smile. "Darling." He tilted Loki's chin upwards. "Our bonds have been severed. Sif has released me of my promise of marriage."

Loki's eyes widened, and his face dropped in shock. "You... Tell me you speak no lies."

"None. You may ask her yourself. Sif will no longer be my bride."

Loki was speechless. His heart raced and his body warmed as though the sun itself were shining through him. It was like he could see color again after a lifetime of darkness. Loki was truly, helplessly happy. Shock had overtaken him so suddenly that he did not even feel the joyful tears on his cheeks. Thor wiped his face clean, kissing him tenderly.

"When this bloodshed has finished," he began, "we shall return to Asgard. There, should you have me, I shall make you my husband. Our world will know prosperity and goodness the likes of which has not been felt for some time. We will wed in the summer time. Under golden arches and sunshine. The whole kingdom will see us, bound together in love. Why I shall proclaim it to the world itself should it please you, Loki." They shared another kiss. "And when we have found our marriage then, perhaps the gods would be kind enough to let us try a second time for our family." 

That's when a thrill snapped Loki back into reality. He had been taken into such fantasies by Thor's words that the reality had not hit him until just then. Blood rushing, he pulled from Thor's grasp. Without a word, he found his cloak on the ground and pulled a pouch out from under it. Returning to Thor's lap, Loki pulled something from its contents. Thor's eyes widened. Dare he feel such joy at the sight?

"The blackroot..." He turned to Loki. His own eyes threatened to tear up. "You-you didn't-" 

Loki shook his head. "I had no time to do so." By now, a smile had stretched over Loki's lips. He reached out, lacing his arms around Thor's neck. "It still lives within me. Thor... you will be a father yet."

Thor's breath was choppy. Happiness like he'd never experienced overcame him. He covered his mouth, his smile unhelpfully covered by his big palm. Those misty eyes turned down to where Loki's stomach sat. His child rested there. Safe and secure. With trembling fingers, he reached out, almost afraid to touch. Soon, he laid his hand flat against Loki's stomach. It was firm - firmer than it had been. Thor felt such small changes beneath his tunic. He laughed, his voice breathy and weak. He had known so many days of horrors that to feel hope again was unsettling.

With a sudden movement, Thor swooped down and lifted Loki's tunic. He laid a long, tender kiss on his skin. "My child..." he breathed. "Oh... oh Loki." Rising again, the two embraced, and the kisses were many. At last, after endless rivers of blood, they had found the glimpse of a shore. "My Loki..." Thor tucked hair behind his ear. "My little giant."

Loki beamed at the pet name. Had it been so long since he heard it from Thor's lips? They kissed again and again, ignoring the struggles of the outer world, if only for now. Eventually, Thor lead them back to his bed, and the two found comfort in each other's arms. His big hands curved along the contours of Loki's body. He felt every inch as though it were new to him. Indeed, the world had changed within moments for them both. To dwell on the terrors of their lives would destroy them. Now, while such reasons existed, each man grasped at what gave their days meaning, or face the madness of the world around them.

They were stripped of their clothes, a warm sphere of air protecting them from the chill of the outside. Thor ran his lips down the center of Loki's body. Every inch, every fine hair of his skin was like sugar to him. His teeth gently scraped against the trail that lead to his penis, watching with delight as Loki's muscles twitched. Lifting his head, he stared down at his lover - his _fiancé_ \- with content. "You are so beautiful," he cooed. Wetting his fingers, he slid them inside Loki's tight body, preparing for what was to come.

Loki shivered and cried out softly. His legs were open, and inviting. He wanted the feel of Thor again. But this was more than a chance of lovemaking in dangerous times. This was the unquestioning cap of their decision together. The beginning of the rest of their lives.

When Thor began, Loki accepted him with ease. Their bodies churned in tandem with one another. Thor's hips rolled slowly, their kisses as fluid as the air they breathed. He dug his fingers deep into the roots of Thor's golden hair, lest he stray too far. The strength of his body was felt in his gentleness, and drove Loki into a euphoria he had yet to truly experience. Each thrust savored their love. They rocked, slowly, taken to a wonderful madness by their intimacy. Who was to say where one body ended and the other began?

Soon enough, Loki felt his body begin to reach its tipping point. "Thor-" he sighed. "I... I am..."

"Yes," Thor growled. "Together..."

His hips began to undulate quicker, their kisses stopping only to allow them air. Their eyes closed, and Thor pressed his head into the crux of Loki's neck. Simultaneously, they felt the appending rupture of their ecstasy. Until-

"Augh-!" Thor went stiff, and the hot liquid within filled itself in Loki's hole. Loki gasped, his own climax triggered by Thor's finish. His own semen splashed onto his peach-colored stomach. The burn of pleasure was so sudden and powerful, he could make no sound, his eyes popping open out of instinct.

And then, it was over. Thor laid along Loki's body, the pair of them gasping. Ignoring the stickiness between them, Thor pulled away and laid to Loki's right. Soon enough, they were once more entangled, awash in their afterglow. Thor's hand, soundlessly, found itself on Loki's stomach. There, he pet it, his eyes closed and his heart overflowing with joy. Loki saw the smile, Thor's eyes closed as he felt the child within him. Loki couldn't help but smile, too. 

"I think it's a boy."

Thor opened his eyes, and the two looked at one another. "You think?" Thor repeated.

Loki shrugged. "It feels as though it is."

Thor's smile stretched from ear to ear. The charm, once buried beneath a mountain of sadness and duty, had returned to his face. He seemed a completely different person. Sliding down to Loki's stomach, he wiped it with his hand and laid his ear flat. Loki chuckled.

"You can't _hear_ it yet."

"Nonsense. If it is my boy, it is in his nature to be loud."

Loki snorted. "Gods above you speak the truth. I fear what monster this child will be!"

"Monster? Ha!" Thor lifted his head. "He shall be so much more. The prince of Asgard will have the voice of thunder itself! Why, listen now, I can hear him clapping!"

"Perhaps it is the echo of your empty _head_ you hear."

"You do me disservice! Would a man lacking in mind be so apt to catch your attention? If so, then I dare say I am not the only one you so insult!" They laughed together, and Thor leaned up to kiss him sweetly. When they broke apart, his expression had softened. "This child will bring about a new age of peace. Born of two worlds, he will know both homelands. The blood of giants and of men flow through him."

Loki looked at him earnestly. "After all that is happened, you intend on embracing his Jotun side?"

"Why not?" said Thor. He ran the back of his fingers along Loki's cheek. "His birthing father is Jotun. A man whom I have grown to love with all my heart. And I shall do so with this child." He returned to Loki's stomach, hand resting gently below his navel. "We shall raise him right. Teach him the ways of peace so that he might never know the horrors of war. He shall be a babe born under so many gods that the difference will become meaningless." He kissed Loki's belly, letting his lips linger. When he lifted his head, Loki was once more close to crying.

"You foolish king," he whimpered. "He will be perfect."

As Loki's tears began to fall, Thor's smile only brightened. He hoisted himself up, cradling Loki's shoulders. "How now? What is this sadness, my love?"

"It is nothing!" Loki wailed. "I-I-I am merely-ch-!" He shivered and shut his eyes tightly. It did nothing to impede his emotions.

"Dear Loki. Curb your crying, my darling."

"I am not crying!"

"Oh? Then what are these, my sweet?" He thumbed Loki's cheeks. "Faerie kisses?"

"Dew drops!"

"Ah yes, of course. Dew drops."

Loki unraveled once more into sobs, and Thor, dutifully and without complaint, held him until his tears had run dry.


	30. Before Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for being patient with me, everyone! This fic is super close to being finished. In fact, I think I might have only one or two chapters after this. Depends on how I want to split things up.

The sun was breaking just over the horizon. The troops of Vanaheim, Asgard and Svartalfheim rose with the new day, readying horses and wolfing down a quick breakfast. They had just under a day's travel ahead of them before arriving at Thor's campsite. Malekith, ever a peacock, rose from his tent already clothed and washed for the day. One would not think that a man draped in such fine silks would be marching into war. Fortunately, Malekith did not bother himself with the petty thoughts of others. Or, at least, that was what he told himself. It was Malekith's philosophy that no one followed a sloppy king. If one wanted respect, there were more ways than honor to earn it. Appearance, in that aspect, was very important indeed.

So why then was that Asgardian so loved?

As Malekith made his way to the horses, he glanced to his side and saw Fandral, surrounded by Asgardians and Vanaheim people alike. They swarmed him as he told stories of gods only knew what. He was a charming man, surely, but his clothes had been stained by sweat and dirt and rain. His hair was unkempt, and his armor dented. He was frankly unruly to look at. Yet the sight spoke for itself - mangy or not, this man was loved by many. Perhaps if only to himself, Malekith admitted such a thing was curious. In a split second, he and Fandral caught eyes, and Malekith tried to look away quickly.

"Ah, good morrow, Highness!" Fandral waved pleasantly, approaching the elf king with Volstagg and Hogun at his side. "Are we ready to begin the day? Hopefully our last."

Malekith turned to the horses, fixing his glove. "So long as you and your people do not take an eternity, we should make good time." 

"Ho ho? And how long did his Majesty take to get ready this morning?"

Malekith scowled. "Allies or no, I should have your tongue for all this teasing."

Fandral tsked. "Without my tongue, I fear you'd rob the world of a very valuable asset." Malekith turned away, trying to ignore the tiresome swordsman. "In any case, before we make Thor's battlements, I've come to thank you."

Now that was somewhat of a surprise. "Thank?" he repeated. "What for? You are useful and therefore kept alive."

"True," said Fandral. "And while it is also true that you captured my people and our allies to be held as leverage to align with our enemies, the fact of the matter is that you did not. That, in my opinion, is worth gratitude."

Confused and steadily growing frustrated, Malekith turned to Fandral fully. "And the fact that I had been willing to be your enemy does not bother you?"

Fandral merely shrugged. "We are in a time of war soon after the wounds of the previous were still healing. Whatever helps to end this battle as fast as possible is a commodity."

"You are a strange man."

"And you are a queer elf."

Malekith straightened upright, his whole body going rigid. "I _beg_ your pardon!? How dare you speak that way to me-!"

Fandral seemed taken aback. "I'm sorry-?"

"I-! I am not-! I should have you _flogged_ for your outlandish accusation!"

It took a moment for Fandral to process that. "What? You can call me strange but I cannot do the same?"

Malekith's flailing paused. "You-? You mean..." Suddenly, he clammed up. "Is... is that what 'queer' means... in Asgard? Strange?"

Fandral cocked an eyebrow. "Yes...? Does it mean something different in Svartalfheim?"

Color flashed across Malekith's sharp cheeks, even on the burned side. "I... I see... well... you still should not go around calling kings strange. It is uncooth for a man of your status to speak so plainly to royalty. I know not how things are done in Asgard, but _here_ , men know their place-" Malekith froze as Fandral took a step forward. His brown eyes narrowed, a peculiar smile on his lips.

"Your Majesty..." he cooed. "What does 'queer' mean in Svartalfheim?"

Malekith ground his jaw, but he did not dare look away, despite how close Fandral had set himself. Sniffing haughtily, Malekith mounted his steed and fixed his reigns. "We're wasting time. Gather your troops. We need to arrive by sundown!" He nudged his horse's ribs and rode towards the front of the caravan. All the while, he could feel Fandral's smile burn itself into his neck.

~~~~~~~~~

"Laufey's men will strike soon. They know that the troops from Vanaheim have not arrived. With my betrayal fresh in their minds, I have no doubt that it will be within the next day, if not sooner."

"Do we have scouts on watch?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Double them. I will not allow our enemy to gain the upper hand."

"All due respect, my King, they already do. Our numbers have only gotten weaker since this battle began. And with reinforcements captured by Malekith..."

Thor rubbed his eyes in a tired way. He, Loki, Sif and a few of Thor's war council stood around the table in his tent, staring at the map of their battlegrounds. It was not nearly as elaborate as Laufey's map. The illustrations were crude, the markers for soldier flanks simple wooden tokens to be moved from square to square. Thor, dressed in a simple undershirt and trousers, rested his palms on the edge of the table. Behind him, his armor sat, ready to be put on at a moment's notice. "I will not concede to them. To surrender is to sign my people into slavery and death."

One of Thor's council massaged his temple, brows furrowed above his nose. "I fear this is not a battle we can win, Majesty. It may be our only option." 

"Laufey will not accept a peaceful surrender," Loki said, plucking a token from the map. "He does not want Asgard subservient. He wants you dead."

That ended the discussion quickly. Thor, still staring at his marked map, rubbed the kink in his neck. "Make sure there are no holes in our patrol. Double every post. One hint that Laufey is coming and we attack. We can not afford to do otherwise. Dismissed." The council left, leaving only the three behind - Thor, Loki, and Sif. While Thor poured himself a glass of wine, Sif gathered up the charts to take back with her. Loki, awkwardly, stood idle, staring at the solider token. 

"Ahem." Sif cleared her throat, her hand cupping all of the tokens but Loki's. Loki jumped, hand clutched around the wooden piece.

He held it out. "Sorry. Here." Handing it to her, Loki averted his eyes.

Sif lingered, staring at him. "Something on your mind, Loki?" Both Loki and Thor looked up at the question. Sif stood, waiting patiently.

"Oh? Ah... no, nothing. Nothing's on my..."

"Do you think I feel angry? Because Thor will no longer be my husband?"

Caught in a corner, Loki looked between the pair of them, embarrassed. "Er... well... were it me, that's how I would feel."

A smile fell on Sif's lips. She chuckled. "I released Thor of our engagement because I knew he loved another. I do not bother with pettiness."

Before Loki could doubt her words, Thor's hand came to his shoulder. "It's true," Thor said kindly. "Sif could see my love for you even when I was blind to it." Taking his hand, he kissed Loki's knuckles. "Fortunate that my dearest friend is that much smarter than I." 

Loki licked his lips. "Well... I doubt that is such a hard task to do."

The three of them laughed softly. It felt so good to do so. Endless days of trailing beneath a storm cloud of uncertainty and sorrow... It was easy to forget what the sun felt like.

"Your Majesty!" A voice called from outside. A guard lifted up the flap to Thor's tent. "You're needed by the barricades."

"Yes. I'll be right there." The guard left, and Thor turned to the other two. "Sif, be sure Loki gets some rest. And plenty of food."

"There's no need to hover-" Loki's protest was silenced with a kiss.

"When I return, we'll see if we can't prepare anything else for Laufey's men." With a nod, Thor was out of the tent, leaving Sif and Loki behind.

Sif, her smile half-cocked, put a hand on her hip and turned to Loki. "Don't think this excuses you. I shall be keeping an eye on you for some time. Break his heart again and I will not be so forgiving."

Loki smiled genuinely. "You have my word," he said. "I will never betray him again. Or any of you." He sat himself down on the edge of Thor's bed, hands clasped together. "I wish only for his happiness. Our happiness together, and with our family." Sif sat beside Loki, staring at the tent wall thoughtfully. "So much has changed in so little time. I can only pray to whatever gods listen that we win this fight."

"Thor is determined. If he does not win, he will do everything in his power to try."

"Yes..." Loki's smile fell. "That is what I fear." He turned to her, eyes imploring. "Sif... This child is the most precious thing to me, next to the man I love. If anything should happen..."

"It will not," she responded. Her hand went to his, and she clutched it gently. "I will protect you both with my life if I must. Even if Thor were not my king, he is my friend. _Nothing_ will happen to that babe. Or to you."

Loki's smile returned. "Thank you. It means so much."

Without shame, Sif pulled Loki in for a warm, secure hug. When it broke, she stood and motioned him to do the same. "Come along. We must get you fed. King's orders."

~~~~~~~~

Frey had been silent for some time. While his father and brothers prepared for another assault on the Asgardians, he kept to himself, deep in his own thoughts. Laufey had sent scout after scout into the forests and out on the battle field, but by day's end, it could only be concluded that Loki had either somehow fallen to his death, or he was already joined the enemy.

The enemy. What a thought.

There had been a reason Frey had kept quiet about letting Loki go free. His father was one of those reasons. The further Laufey drove himself to destroy Asgard and all it stood for, the worse his coldness became. Laufey had never been a kind man, but he was if anything fair to his family. Selling away Loki, striking Jarvi... All because he knew the sands of time were starting to fall through his fingers. Laufey's days were quickly running out. The longer Frey realized that, the more he observed Laufey's actions, the more he realized that Laufey had condemned his men to share his death wish. 

Torn by his loyalty and his wisdom, Frey walked through the camp, mind buzzing with all that weighed on it. That's when he came across his brother's tent. It had been searched quickly for ideas of where Loki had gone, but once the answer was obvious, it was left alone. Glancing behind him, Frey stepped inside.

The afternoon light struggled to seep through the dark canvas walls. Loki had left in a hurry. Every book he had thought to bring with him remained where it was. A trunk full of clothes sat at the base of his bed. As though Loki would return any minute to sleep and change. Food, half eaten, sat on a tray at his bedside. Frey ran his fingers along Loki's vanity. That's when he spotted the parchment. Crumpled on the floor were handfuls of tossed aside parchment, stained with ink. Picking one up, he sat down and unfurled the paper. 

 

> ~~_Dearest Thor,_ ~~
> 
> ~~_My love,_ ~~
> 
> _Thor,_
> 
> ~~_I hate myself._ ~~
> 
> ~~_I am scared._ ~~
> 
> _I fear I have made a terrible mistake. I have nothing, ~~and wish only to be by your side again.~~  
> _
> 
> _I love you. I will always love you._
> 
> ~~_Please help me._ ~~
> 
>  

 

It was then that the letter was tossed, and a new one started. Frey went through them all. Most were desperate pleas by Loki for Thor to rescue him. Lines read: "I fear for my life" and "I love you" over and over in varying ways. Rather than grow angry or disgusted with the revelation of whom his brother had grown to love, Frey felt an overwhelming sense of sadness with each discarded letter. How long had Loki feared for his safety? What pain had his younger brother suffered without the others knowing? Without anyone to comfort him. 

Finally, Frey found a letter that was more put together than the rest.

 

> _Thor,_
> 
> _I fear what will happen should someone see this letter. No doubt, my father will have me killed. ~~He had nearly done so once before.~~ I have news that, in another life, I would be happy to tell you. I carry your child inside me. ~~I am so afraid.~~ _
> 
> _You were right all that time ago. Certain men of my kind are gifted with the ability to create life. ~~I wish nothing more that this would have happened in a happier time.~~ I keep thinking what my father will do ~~if~~ when he finds out. Perhaps he will slaughter me for the rest of the army to see. _
> 
> _I cannot take this to my grave, Thor. I know it must terrify you, but you deserve to know._
> 
> _I love you so dearly._
> 
> _Loki_

 

Frey stared at the letter long and hard. The ability to create life? Was such a thing even possible? Frey looked about, and found a book most recently used on Loki's desk. A page was earmarked, Loki's quill pen flattened between the pages. With a racing heart, Frey opened the book to its correct page and stared. The text was written in the old language, but Frey understood. A picture of a Jotun man, about Loki's age, was illustrated. In his belly, the developing offspring sat, just as it would in the womb of a woman. Once more, he sat on the bed, staring at the picture. His fingers ran along the old paper, mouth slightly hanging open.

Frey was not a mind of the old ways, as Laufey was. Being a king in his own right, it was easy to let go of the fears of his childhood that had been so instilled into him and his brothers. But to think that something so strange might have been true... Still, it would explain Loki's betrayal. Yet, could one even call it that? Every second Loki remained with them was a second that his very life was in danger.

Quick as he could, Frey gathered every scrap of parchment from the floor. Finding a candle, he lit the tinder box and burned each and every one. If his father knew of _this_ , the witch hunt would never end. Loki would be dead by the end of it.

"Frey? _Frey?_ " The voice of Jarvi caught his attention. He stood sharply and stepped out of Loki's tent. His younger brother spotted him quickly, a curious look on his face. "What were you doing in there?"

Frey remained level headed. "Just checking a few things. What is it?"

"Father wishes to speak with you."

"Just me?"

"Just you."

Frey did not like the sound of that. Still, he would not give Laufey a reason to act out against him. Straightening out his glasses, he swept past Jarvi and headed straight for his father's tent.

Laufey was waiting there, looming over his battle maps as usual. He did not look up from them as Frey stepped inside. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Laufey muttered. He finally turned to his eldest son, his red eyes cold and unfeeling. "You are a king, Frey. You know the weight of that title."

"I do."

"Then you understand what must be done. Done at all costs."

Frey hesitated. After learning what he had in Loki's tent, he didn't like the sound of that. "I shall do what needs to be done for the good of my people," he answered carefully.

"That is not what I said."

"No, but it is my answer. To whatever you wish to ask me."

Laufey stood up straighter, his lip curling into a sneer. "Do not let your power go to your head, Frey. A king you may be, but you are still my son. My word is still law." Frey remained silent. Laufey, turning from his maps, sat himself down in a hand-carved chair beside the table. "Your brother is a traitor. To our family, to our way of life... to everything that we stand for. It is likely that you will face him before this war is over. Though knowing Loki, perhaps he would do better to cower behind the red cape of his new king."

A sharp twist hit Frey's chest. His next words were chosen carefully. "Father, have you considered that Loki may have his reasons for leaving? That perhaps this war is unnecessary?"

Laufey's eyes burned. He stood to his feet. A mere half step took him to Frey's side, his glare unwavering. "'Unnecessary'? Is the conservation of our way of life, and the protection of our home 'unnecessary'? Or do you care so little for the very people you were meant to lead?"

"The Asgardians did not attack us first. Not then and not now."

"They are heathens."

"They are _people_. They wish only to live their lives undisturbed, the same as we."

"They are an affront to our gods and our ways. Their brutality will one day cross our borders if it is not stopped now. When that day comes, our blue mountains will run red with the blood of Jotuns."

"It is already running red, Father! Just because you are set to die does not mean the rest of us shall perish with you!"

In a split second, Laufey's hand was wrapped around Frey's throat. Frey choked, his glasses askew, as Laufey clutched his wind pipe. He tried prying Laufey's hand from his neck, but with no luck. His father was stronger in every way, and kept his fingers tight. Frey was jerked forward, Laufey unrelenting in his grasp.

" _If I command the whole world to die,_ " he growled, " _then it shall be so._ "

With a jerk of his arm, Frey was thrown to the ground. Frey coughed and sputtered, clutching his own neck and drinking in air. Laufey stood above him, his cruel gaze fixed on the son at his feet. "Leave my tent. And if I see you stupidly sparing your brother's life, I will not think to spare your own. Perhaps Bjarke will inherit two kingdoms instead of one."

Frey glowered up at Laufey, still breathing heavily after the attack. But, he did not argue. It was a wise man who picked his battles. Slowly, Frey stood up straight, their eyes never leaving each other. With a sharp turn of his heel, Frey left the tent as instructed.

All the while, his mind burned with so many thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~

Thor stared at the battlefield as the sun set behind him. Indistinguishable lumps of fallen men and women scattered across the horizon. No doubt they would feed the animals that would survive long after the war had ended. He only wondered just how many animals would feed. Thor lingered for some time, until the sound of gentle footsteps caught his attention. He did not turn, for he knew them well by now. Loki leaned against his arm, their hands clutched together.

"I fear for our chances," Thor admitted.

Rather than tease Thor for this truth, Loki only nodded. "Any sane man would. But there is a chance."

"Is there?" Thor closed his eyes. "We are outnumbered. Our aide has been captured, and we are helpless to do anything about it. Furthermore, if we do not finish soon, the cold will kill my men faster than Laufey's soldiers." He squeezed Loki's hand, his head dipping. "But what can I do? What can I do but stand here and pray for a miracle?"

Loki stared at Thor a moment before turning to the fiery sky. "Well... stranger things have happened. Perhaps you will get your miracle yet."

A commotion pulled them from their worries. Turning, they spotted soldiers fleeing towards the eastern forests on the edge of camp. Thor and Loki swapped glances before rushing to follow. Voices rose, most layered with excitement and cheering. Thor managed to work his way to the front of his soldiers, only to see a familiar face rush towards him.

"Fandral!" Thor exclaimed with glee. He raced out to embrace his friend without shame. Fandral laughed, clutching Thor with all his might. "Oh bless-!" He pulled away, clutching his shoulders. "I feared the worst!"

Fandral only smiled. "And the worst did happen, My Liege. See for yourself!" He turned, letting Thor look upon the endless rows of men behind him, lead by Volstagg and Malekith. "I have the displeasure of informing you that I have not returned with 500 men, but 1200!"

Thor felt his heart sing. "1200... That is more than I could ever ask..." He saw Malekith dismount and approached with earnest. "King Malekith. Do I see this correctly? I had thought my men were your captives."

"Plans change, King Thor. As it turned out, your way seemed the most viable option." He removed his riding gloves, the two kings nodding in greeting at one another. "Keep in mind, this is no free venture. Your soldiers live because I know you are a man who will pay for their safe return." 

Despite the clear play, Thor put his hand on Malekith's shoulder (something Malekith looked rather put-off by). "All is fair in love and war, is it not? Come. We shall discuss your terms." 

As they left for Thor's tent, Loki remained where he was, floored by the sight. In a mere moment, their numbers had been more than doubled, as had their chances of withstanding Laufey's attack. Now, what seemed hopeless was ripe with hope. Loki could feel it in the very air.

Miracle indeed.


	31. A New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is it. The final chapter. Thank you all so much for your continued support and love. A lot has changed in the past year, so I think ending this fic before 2015 is out is a perfect way to cap it off. It's been an absolute joy. 
> 
> Now prepare your anuses.

"Do you find these terms agreeable?"

"I do-"

"We do not."

"Loki..."

"Your numbers are impressive, but your aide only came about because your intent was to fight alongside our enemy. Men were lost. It is only right we expect retribution for this."

Malekith quirked a well groomed brow. He, Thor, Loki and a select few others sat in Thor's tent, discussing the details of the alliance between Asgard and Svartalfheim. While Thor was more than happy to adhere to any wish Malekith had, Loki was not so keen, for reasons he divulged with no problem. "Do you blame our suspicion?" Loki continued. "The days gone without men nearly cost us more lives than is acceptable. Furthermore, it is not only Asgard which suffers." He turned to Hogun, who had been silent for a time. "Your people were the ones captured by this elf. Surely you are not willing to stand by and have your struggles be made a mockery of?"

Hogun remained still, his arms folded nobly. "You suggest that I do as my pride wills," he said wisely. "In war, pride is what dooms an army to fail."

Loki scoffed, but Thor laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know you want justice for my men, but Hogun is right. This is a gift. It is best we accept it without doubt."

"And what if this gift proves a burden?"

"I assure you," Malekith interrupted, "I am as good as my word. Do you see any weapons on me? Any inkling that I may betray you? No. But, Prince Loki, if you are too _afraid_ to accept my aide for King Thor's people-"

"Do not mistake my caution for cowardice," Loki snapped.

"And do not mistake my good sense for treachery. In the game of war, we are all friends here."

Loki wanted to argue more, but Thor's hand clutched his own. "We will adhere to your terms. Money is of no consequence, nor is land. Should we lose, I shall be stripped of much more than plots of sand."

Casually, Malekith nodded and sipped his wine, which had been given to him upon his arrival. "There is another condition. Kennoris is my niece, and as it stands, is without suitor. You are not wed yet, King Thor, and so I request that you marry the girl upon our victory." Both Thor's and Loki's faces looked shocked upon this new information. 

"Marry-?" 

"He most certainly will  _not_." Loki was, predictably, the first to speak. Hot under the collar, he leaned forward in his seat, sneering at the elf king. "Thor is a man engaged to be wed. He will not be forced into a political contract to soothe your lineage-!"

"Engaged?" Though Malekith looked put off, he was surprised at the news. "Who? Your general, perhaps?"

"Sif and I were engaged for a time," Thor admitted. "But that has since passed. My hand lies with the prince you see before you." Loki tried his hardest to keep a grin from spreading.

Malekith pulled back, his eyes wide. "You?" He turned to Loki. " _You_? The King of Asgard marry a Jotun? A _prince_ of all things-?"

"What of it?" Loki defended. "In my life, I have never known freedom as I do in Asgard. Not everyone is apt to adhere to the strict rules of tradition, King Malekith."

An awkward silence sat around the table. Loki glared at Malekith, who still seemed quite shocked. Hogun cleared his throat, redirecting the attention of the council to himself. "Perhaps it is best to discuss terms later," he suggested. "Time is precious. We must decide."

Thor and Malekith looked to one another. Standing, Thor put his fist to his heart; a time-honored salute recognized in Asgard's military. "I will abide by every request you make, with the exception that I will not marry someone I do not love. Trade between our peoples will increase, and your citizens will always be welcome guests in my home. Is this agreeable?"

Malekith hesitated in thought. Clearly this was not ideal for the elf, but after a moment, he stood. Three fingers were placed in the middle of his breast. A salute of the dark elves. "Agreed. My men are at your command, Your Majesty."

With that, Thor and Loki were left to themselves while the new troupes were rallied by their respective leaders. Loki stood and turned to Thor. A sour look remained on his face. "You realize who you have struck a deal with just now? Malekith the Accursed is not a reputation worth meddling in. While I admit we need the help, to give in to so many of his demands..."

But Thor shook his head. "What care I for rumors? Besides, what do you suppose will be said about the pair of us throughout the nine kingdoms? Surely _we_ must be willing to see past such silliness."

Loki stalled before sighing against Thor's chest. He was immediately drawn in, and held in comfort. "I fear your kindness will be your end, my love."

Thor chuckled deeply. "Nonsense. Your cunning nature will keep me alive forever."

"Yes. I suppose every cow needs a herder..."

"Ah! A cow am I? Nay! This is a bull you have found yourself in, my sweet!" Pulling back, Thor tilted up Loki's chin, smiling kindly between them. "A bull that will protect his pasture with every might in his body."

Their playful banter subsided and Loki felt worry swell within him. "Laufey will attack soon. I feel it immanent. Will you lead as you had before?"

"I shall."

Loki bit his lip in concern. "I... suppose you must tend to your soldiers then. With it being so near..." His eyes shifted away, and Thor's hand cupped his narrow cheek. Loki could not help the twist in his gut. Never before had he felt so afraid for his beloved. "Tell me again of our wedding, Thor. Of golden arches and sunlight..."

Thor's smile warmed. "It will be grand. The grandest the world has ever known." He took both Loki's hands, holding them together. "We shall stand for all to see and proclaim our devotion in the eyes of all gods, daring them to defy us. You shall be in the finest silks, and I in the fullest furs. Heimdal will officiate us, and bond us ever more in peace and harmony."

"It sounds so perfect..."

"And so it shall be." He kissed Loki's head. "But you are right. I fear Laufey readies for another attack. I must be ready when it happens. There is a wind today. Stay inside and keep yourself bundled. I can't have you catching cold." Loki nodded, though his head felt heavy in doing so. Thor gave him one last kiss before letting him go and leaving his side. There Loki remained, his eyes lingering on the tent flaps long after Thor's departure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty arrows, all lined up in a neat row. Each tip shined a dark green, its liquid substance menacing in the firelight. All around Jarvi, the sound of rushing feet and hurried voices bombarded the walls of his tent. He cared little for the commotion beyond his world. As he sat, his legs folded beneath them, he felt the fletching with the tips of his fingers. Jotun quail was used for this set - the finest Jarvi could find, in fact. There was something spectacular about the way they sent an arrow flying. Jarvi had never known an arrow fletched with quail feathers to miss. Removing his hand, he turned to the now empty wooden bowl. The remains of his poison concoction lay caked along the inner walls of the wood grain. It was a difficult mix, even for him. But should his arrows strike true, the target would die within a matter of hours.

Perhaps that target might even be his dear younger brother.

Bitterly, he plucked an arrow from the lot and stared at the tip. The thought of Loki left him sick. Betrayal of a friend was harsh but consolable. Betrayal of family? That was inexcusable. He would be the first to admit that their father was losing grip with himself; he hadn't been right since the end of the last war. But to abandon everything, no matter what the circumstances... Jarvi couldn't fathom it.

"There you are." The voice of Frey brought him from his thoughts. He turned to see his oldest sibling step into his tent. Those eyes landed on Jarvi's row of arrows. "Preparing?"

"Just making sure they will be properly coated. Father wants us to march on the Asgardians soon enough." Jarvi stood, one arrow still in hand. "I know I will leave one mark ready in case our beloved brother makes an appearance."

Frey looked uneasy. "Do you truly resent Loki so much?"

"Why shouldn't I? Bjarke is ready to take his head off."

"Yes, but that is Bjarke." 

"So?" 

Frey hesitated, gaze loitering around the tent. There were words that lingered, but he refused to say them. Not yet, anyway. He walked further inside, gently touching the canvas walls. "I cannot help but wonder if it is so right to jump for Loki's death so quickly." 

"He betrayed us, Frey," said Jarvi. "He is no longer our family." 

"Isn't he?" Frey turned to him. "Are his transgressions enough to wipe the blood from his veins?" 

"And if they are?" 

"Think, Jarvi. You are capable of it." Frey rounded to him, his face imploring. "You and I have never agreed on much, but surely you do not want such chaos. It is Father and his path of madness that taints our choices." 

Jarvi sneered. "Do my ears deceive me? Or is there a second traitor in our home?"

"Jarvi,  _please_." Frey stepped forward, one hand on Jarvi's shoulder. "Loki lied to us, yes. He now sides with our enemy, and Laufey has ordered his death. But  _why_ are the Asgardians our enemy?" 

"Why? They are barbarians-!"

"Who wish only to protect their own? As we do?"

Jarvi paused, caught off guard by the question. "Do you empathize with them?"

"They are flesh and blood, the same as us. Father would see innocent lives destroyed a thousand times over before he admits so. Bjarke would do worse without care. Both would sacrifice our own people to no end."

"So what would you have me do? What do _you_ plan to do, Frey? Shall I expect Father's wrath upon you as well? Perhaps I shall face against you on the battle field along side the other traitor."

Frey sighed and let his hand fall. "I will march with our countrymen," he said softly. "It is my duty as their king. But Jarvi... all I ask is that you think. Perhaps... this is not the answer. Consider it, at the very least." With that, Frey turned and left the tent.

The hour of attack was nearly upon them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly two thousand men were certainly something to behold. As King Thor handled his business elsewhere, Malekith stared upon the vast array of soldiers that milled about in the camp. Men and women flooded the area, straightening armor, and sharpening weapons. Some even found time to laugh and smile with one another, as though their lives would not soon be held in the balance of fate. It bewildered Malekith to no end that those prepared to die could find levity in their lives.

It was then that a familiar head of blond hair caught his gaze. Spotting Fandral, Malekith was reminded of the swordsman's teasing. If anyone was "queer" between the two of them, it would be these Asgardian folk. Malekith was still digesting the idea that Thor, King of Asgard, would marry a man, and the son of his enemy, no doubt. If it was Fandral alone that exhibited these tastes, Malekith could understand. Were they all like this?

Those brown eyes turned, and landed on the elven king. Straightening, Malekith turned away, pretending to look to the battlefield lazily. It did not stop Fandral from approaching; like it ever did. The Asgardian paused beside him, his gaze following Malekith's own. "Worried, Your Highness?"

Malekith bristled, but kept himself still. "Why should I be? Tis not I that will fight and die today."

"Oh? Is it a lack of faith or courage that keeps you from battle?"

"Neither. It is a surplus of sense."

"Ah, so I see. If it is so nonsensical to fight and die for a cause, then perhaps your soldiers may be informed of this revelation. Or would that upset your carefully laid plans?"

"Why are you pestering me, boy?"

Fandral laughed. "Of all the names you have bestowed me, 'boy' is not one that fits."

"Your behavior dubs you so. And your tongue."

"That is the first time my tongue has been called so, Majesty. I must admit I am not used to it. It has, however, procured many other names..." 

Sighing, Malekith stood straight and turned sharply to Fandral. "You are to fight along side your brethren?"

"I am."

"So why do you find time to jest in such a serious moment? This may be the last of your days yet here you are, smiling as though your life was young."

Fandral turned, leaning an elbow against a supply crate. His smile remained, and he gazed off into the distance. "I find the hard times to give me more reason to smile, Highness."

"And what foolish reason allows for it?"

"The simple fact that I may never again get that chance." Though his face was sunny, Malekith felt a weight to those words, and was compelled to listen further. "You are right. It is not you who will fight and die today. Gods willing, I will survive this war as I did the last. But it may not be so. Yet if I dwell on this possibility, what reason have I to smile? And if I have no reason to smile, what cause is there to fight for? Why do I will myself to live?" He turned, his brown eyes gentle and sweet. "There are days where all I have is my smile. It alone has kept me living for so long. You may see a fool, but without this ideal, I would not need to have died on the field; I would already be a dead man."

A distant horn blew, causing them both to straighten. The air around the camp wilted immediately, and soldiers began to run to their posts. Malekith looked to Fandral, and for once, that smile left him. "They are on the move." Swiping the sword from his belt, he left the elf king's side, thrusting himself into the fray.

All along the front lines, men and elves stacked up, their weapons at the ready. They marched forward as one, lead by their respective generals. Thor, having heard the horn, made a swift line for the front. Armor already adorned, he strode forward, hammer at his side. Soldiers moved away, making a path for the king of Asgard.

Upon reaching the front lines, he marched in time with his men, the sound of boots like the beating heart of a large beast. In the distance, Thor saw Laufey's men. Even with their own increased numbers, the sea of Jotuns was intimidating. Thor, still moving quickly, turned his head. "Sif!" he shouted. "Have your arches stop at fifty yards!" The order was repeated, and Thor moved ever further. His red cloak flapped behind him as a harsh wind picked up, combing the field.

Suddenly, he felt a shift in the Earth below him. Raising his hammer, he cried out: "HALT!" The soldiers behind him stopped, waiting to see what their leader saw. The sound of harsh cracking filled the air. Like the breaking of an ice covered lake. Looking down at the dirt, Thor saw it freeze over in shocks of ice, shooting at he and his charges. One rapidly approaching beam of ice hit the flank to Thor's right. Screams rang out as the ice clung to the soldiers' feet, shooting up their legs like so many deathly fingers. Some soldiers were engulfed immediately, the magic ice suffocating them where they stood. Soon enough, every side of him was now combating attacks from the very ground they walked on. 

With no other alternative, Thor slammed Mijolnir into the ground. A shockwave shattered much of the attacking ice, breaking free many of its captives. The strongest of each flank bashed their weapons into the earth, trying to break what was left. When Thor looked up, he saw a horde of Jotuns thundering for Thor's army. They were less than thirty yards off.

Forced into conflict, Thor could do nothing but raise his hammer high and let his voice be heard. Those around him joined in on the war cry and launched themselves forward. Once more, there was a sickening clash of metals and flesh. Voices cried out, blood sprayed the air. Thor sent Jotun after Jotun flying with a single swing of his mighty Mijolnir. Managing to find a pocket of air, He thrust his weapon forward and sent a bolt of lightning into the crowd of his enemies. Most died on impact. Those who received the extra shock of the blow were sent backwards, many struggling to recover. By the time five minutes of battle had past, Thor had killed at least twenty frost giants.

From the other side of battle, Bjarke was having his own success. His mace, ripe with blood, knocked away scores of soldiers as though they were flies. His monstrous grin grew with each new drop of blood spilled. By the time he had made a dent in the Asgardian line, he spotted his true target: Thor. A murderous lust filled him, and he strut forward, casually knocking away anyone who was so foolish as to try and stop him. Thor looked up just in time to see Bjarke towering above him, mace ready to crack open his skull.

Thor leapt backwards as the spiked head came down. It cracked the ground like candy, leaving sickening blood stains in its wake. Yanking it from the earth, he took a few more swings. Mace and hammer met in sparks, each wielder putting behind it a force strong enough to break bone. Thor stepped backwards, trying to gain some distance between he and Bjarke. Unfortunately, he had neither the room nor the opportunity to harness Mijolnir's power for help. Neither landed a strike, their faces both drenched with sweat. Suddenly, Bjarke raised his mace as if to strike Thor from above. Thor raised Mijolnir to block, but was quickly deceived; Bjarke took the opportunity to kick Thor square in the stomach, sending him flying to his back. The back of his head smacked the hard ground, and for a moment, he saw stars. He blinked into focus just in time to watch as Bjarke raised his weapon for the final blow. And then-

"ARGH!" Rather than crush Thor beneath his weapon, he jerked forward, falling to one knee in pain. Fandral, having not been seen by either party, sent his rapier into the back of Bjarke's joint, just between the plates of his obsidian armor. He turned, seething with rage, and tried to swat Fandral away like a fly. Fandral dodged, landing a few more cuts on Bjarke's weak spots. Able to gain his footing, Thor joined in, and between them, the pair flanked Bjarke with a never ending barrage of attack after attack.

"Enough!" Bjarke send both his hands flying, knocking them each to the ground. First, he rounded to Fandral, madness in his eye. Fandral's rapier had since flown from his hand. "Asgardian _wretch!_ " Before he could send his mace down for the kill, a strange, black cloud caught it, mid-swing. It halted his arm fully, as though keeping it chained to the air itself. "What-!?" He looked around for the culprit. He spotted Malekith, sitting atop his horse. Both of the elf's hands were raised, their fingers burning with a glowing blackness. Fandral also happened to look up, shocked by his savior.

With no ceremony, Malekith raised both hands from his horse's reigns. The black cloud grew, and wrapped around Bjarke like ropes. This gave Thor enough time to jump to his feet and run at Bjarke, full force. His hammer at the ready, he took a mighty swing. It hit Bjarke's chest with such force that the sound itself was like thunder. It launched Bjarke, who was twice Thor's size, out from Malekith's hold and off into the air. Down he fell like a rag-doll at least a hundred yards from where he stood. Panting, Thor helped Fandral up, and the pair looked to where Malekith rode.

"What? I am protecting my investment."

Fandral grinned with glee. "Many thanks, Your Majesty."

Malekith huffed. " _Go_ , you fool!" With a nod, he and Thor ran back into battle.

From where Bjarke landed, the Jotun was abuzz with pain. He grit his teeth, breathing harshly and with great difficulty. Struggling, he pulled himself out of the crater of dirt he lay in. His vision was blurry, and his stomach was twisted in vile knots. He wretched to his side, coughing up dark, salty blood. The wounds were worse than he had ever had before. But it did not stop him. Now seething with rage, he hoisted himself to his feet and swayed upright. One hand was on his bruised stomach, which pulsed in pain. His eyes scanned the battle. There, barely visible through crowds and crowds of fighting soldiers, was Thor, mowing down his people like ninepins. Mustering up all his power, he began to shamble forward, his mace gripped tightly in his hand. 

Thor, meanwhile, was having a time fighting off Jotuns in waves. He and Fandral grew separated quickly, but soon after, Thor was joined by Volstagg. The pair of them toppled frost giants with ease. Until Volstagg, charging into a group of Jotuns, was grabbed and thrust back into the chaos.

"Volstagg-!" Thor called. He had no time to follow, however, as Bjarke was on him faster than he could blink. He had no time to raise Mijolnir to block, and Bjarke's haphazard swing slammed against his right arm. A horrid "CRACK!" rang in his ears, as the spikes broke apart his chain mail and pierced his arm. No doubt the bones may have broken against it. Thor was launched to the side, winded from pain. Looking up, he spotted Bjarke coming in for another attack and rolled aside. Dirt and blood caking him, he hoisted himself to his feet, left arm now limp at his side. Bjarke went down for a few more attacks, but Thor managed to evade them. With no more room to move, Thor finally met Bjarke's mace with his hammer.

The two weapons ground against one another, sparks sprouting between them as though from a blacksmith's anvil. Thor was not a weak man by any means, but his one arm was starting to bend beneath Bjarke's two. He could feel his legs weakening, the balls of his feet digging into the dirt for dear life. That grin returned to Bjarke's face and he leaned forward, hot breath shooting from his nose.

"Do you feel it, Asgardian?" he growled. Thor began to bare his teeth, his anger rising with every passing word. "Your final hour is upon you. Perhaps before you die, you'd like to know that you will be in good company. How perfect that I will be the one to kill _both_ father and son-!"

" **AARRRAGGGHH!** " The cry from Thor was deafening. A second wind of strength overcame him, and he shoved Bjarke away just a few inches. Enough to pull back, and once more slam his hammer forward. This time, Bjarke's face took the brunt of the trauma. It launched Bjarke aside yards away from where Thor stood.

_Shhhuuu-thunk!_

A sharp pain struck Thor's arm. With a shout of surprise, he turned down to his broken limb. An arrow, black and fletched with quail feathers, now stuck out of his muscle. Angry, he yanked it from his arm and looked up. Beyond him less than a hundred feet, was another of Loki's brothers - Jarvi. His bow was upright, the string having just settled from launching his arrow.

A strange feeling overtook him. The battle raged on, and yet the sound began to dim, until he could hear nothing but his own breathing. He tried to focus his eyes, but found it hard to keep anyone clear in his sights, including the archer that struck him. Gravity pulled on his body, which now felt heavier than it had ever been. His blood burned the veins they pulsed through. Without realizing it, Thor fell to his knees, Mijolnir barely clinging to his wrist by its strap. There, he collapsed to the side, the deadly arrow having fallen in the mud before him.

Everything shook. Sweat covered every inch of his body. He could feel nothing but white hot pain, and could hear no one but his own body. He barely registered Volstagg's arms, soaked with Jotun blood, as they dragged him away. As he was taken, Mijolnir dragged in the mud beside him, leaving behind a trail of blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki had spent the past hour pacing. He felt sick but had no strength to vomit. Stuck in Thor's tent, he was condemned to listen to the battle beyond the safety of his world, dreading the fate of the man he loved. It was a thunderous mess of screams and metal, from which Loki could not detect anything specific. That's when he heard the voices. Frantic voices coming ever closer, fretting and yelling at one another. It alerted Loki of its urgency, and the Jotun prince stepped outside. From where he stood, he saw the limp body of Thor carried quickly into camp.

The world crumbled around him in an instant.

Driven by panic, Loki rushed forward. He was too alarmed to so much as cry. "In! Bring him in, bring him inside!" Sif, Volstagg, Hogan and Fandral carried the king into his tent, laying his bloodied body atop his fur blankets. Still, his hammer hung from his wrist, teetering on its strap. Loki flung himself to Thor's side, hands cupping his cheeks. "Gods-! Heimdal! Get Heimdal!" Fandral and Hogun left the tent hurriedly, leaving only three to tend to his bedside. Loki wiped the dirt from Thor's face, desperately trying to keep him breathing. "Thor, _Thor_!" He swatted his cheek a few times, watching as those clear blue eyes rolled around before opening just slightly.

Thor's breathing was shallow, his words strained. With slippery fingers, Loki began to attack the straps to his breastplate. "Help me!" he wailed. "Take this off of him! He can't breathe!" Volstagg and Sif did so, removing his cherished armor. Soaked in so much filth, Thor lay in only his tunic and trousers, his left arm completely red. Loki once more went back to cradling his face. The tears that were too stalled to come had started to form now.

"Gods... Oh... Gods and lords above... Please, _please no_..." Face streaked, he turned to Volstagg and Sif. "What happened?! What!?"

Volstagg was the first to speak. "An arrow," he said. "Tipped with poison." There was sorrow in his bearded face. "I... I was not quick enough. I tried to... to reach him-"

Twisted with anguish, Loki pushed himself up from Thor's bed, gripping his arm. "You _failed_ him!" he screamed. "You- He is your _king!_ _He is your king and you have let him die!_ "

"I would have gladly given my life for him!" Volstagg roared back. His own tears had begun to well in his beady eyes.

" _Liar!_ "

"How DARE you call me-!?"

"Volstagg!" Sif turned sharply, her dark eyes beginning to shake. "Enough. Enough, both of you..." Volstagg hung his head in shame, his broad shoulders trembling. 

Loki continued to glare at Volstagg, but Thor's hand, slipping from Mijolnir's hold, raised to brush against Loki's cheek. Loki snapped his face down to where Thor lay, seeing life still within him. "Loki," he breathed. "Calm... calm yourself... It was not his fault..."

Loki choked his sob down, and clutched Thor's hand to his cheek with both of his own. "Thor... _oh..._ " He shut his eyes tightly, laying teary kisses to the inside of Thor's palm. "My beloved... No, no, no, this is not _right_. This cannot be-!" He could not finish his sentence. Racked with grief, Loki sobbed against his hand.

"There must be an antidote," Sif said, almost helplessly. "There _must_ -"

"There is not," Loki moaned. He turned to Sif, still clutching Thor's hand. "This is Jarvi's doing. He- he makes no antidotes to his poisons..."

"Hel-!" Volstagg gripped his hair and turned away. Loki could spot a few tears clinging to the ends of his beard. "This is all my fault... all my fault..."

The tent flap pulled up, and in came Heimdal and the others. Loki tightened his hold on Thor's hand, looking to Heimdal with a plead in his voice. "The Oracle of Asgard. I beg of you. Thor is poisoned. There must be _something_ that can be done! He has little time left, please help him!"

Heimdal, though his eyes could not see, tilted his face towards where Thor lay. Loki could have sworn that there was sadness in his face then. Stepping forward, Heimdal felt the air before him until he came to Thor's other side. Thor turned his groggy head up to where Heimdal stood. His old friend laid his fingers onto Thor's burning, sweaty head. The others watched in earnest as Heimdal ran his fingers down Thor's temple, his unseeing eyes closing in thought.

"He is too far gone," came his calm voice. "If there is no antidote, then there is no hope."

" _No!_ " Hysterical, Loki threw himself over Thor, clinging to him desperately. " _No_ , I cannot let him die! Please _,_ _please, please, please! Gods above no, no, no!_ " That hand rested atop Loki's head, calming his pleas for now.

"Loki." His voice was slow, and only for Loki to hear. "My love... Do not despair... I cannot bear it."

Loki whimpered. "Thor." He clutched Thor's face, his thumb resting beneath his eye. "How can you ask that of me? Here I see you slip through my fingers and I am powerless-!"

A soft, flickering smile fell to Thor's lips. "If I am to fade from this world... your melancholy cannot be the last thing I see..." Although his hand was heavy, he slid it down to Loki's cheek. His finger wiped up a tear, letting it sit on his knuckle. "Dew drops..."

Loki felt the knife in his heart twist tighter. "Oh..." He wiped his face roughly. "Forgive me my darling, but I cannot stand to smile...!" Another wave of tears hit him, and he curled forward, fingers clutching the roots of Thor's mangled hair. "What will I do without you? This is not-this is not _fair!_ "

"Life is rarely so..." He let his fingers trail down Loki's cheek, hand falling back to the bed. Though it was difficult, he turned back to where Heimdal stood. "Heimdal... my old friend. I ask a favor."

"Anything, my king."

"Marry us."

Loki looked up, his watery eyes wide. "Thor..." Fresh tears sprung to his eyes. "No, no... No, we are to be m-married in Asgard... w-with... s-sunshine and... and..."

Thor rounded back to Loki and leaned his head to the side. He kissed the inside of Loki's palm, letting his lips linger. "Let this be... my final act as a man. To make you... my husband. Forgive me that you... do not get the wedding you deserve..." All was silent. Loki's breaths were shoddy and quick, but for Thor's sake, he held himself in one piece. Realizing this would be their last moments together, he nodded. "Good... Heimdal..."

Heimdal sighed. "Very well then. Friends. We gather here today to unite these two hearts as one, now and for eternity. In the eyes of all gods, so shall they be. Let no mortal deny these two their love and devotion as they take their oaths together. Do you, Thor Odinson, pledge to love and devote your services to this man? To be ever loyal, and to resign yourself to his side?"

"Yes."

"And do you, Loki Laufeyson, pledge to love and devote your services to this man? To be ever loyal, and to resign yourself to his side?"

"Y-yes... _Yes._ "

"Then as I hold these oaths to be true and sacred, I now deem you wed."

Loki leaned forward and kissed him. Their lips lingered, the salt of Loki's tears mingling between them. When they pulled away, Thor, thankfully, was still breathing. That smile once more found its place on Thor's lips. "You are now the rightful king of Asgard... as will our child be... some day."

Loki crumbled. "You think I care? About the crown, about any of it?"

"No... But it is all I can do for you... for our family. Pray that it is enough."

With no resolve left, Loki threw his face into Thor's neck. There, he let himself go, crying deeply into the crux of Thor's shoulder. The crowd around him turned to one another. Without a word, they left, until only Loki's sobs filled the tent.

The group of mourners stood outside Thor's tent for some time. Beyond them, the battle raged, but none could find it within them to rejoin their brothers in arms. All felt compelled to remain where they were until Thor had drawn his final breath. Tears flowed silently, and with dignity. None spoke. It was less than an hour before the flap opened, and out walked Loki. Alone.

He stood at the threshold, eyes rung red from crying. Yet he remained as he was, staring straight ahead without shame. All looked to him, but he need not say what they already knew: Thor of Asgard was dead.

"Thank you." Loki turned to Heimdal first. "You... You gave us one last moment of happiness together, Heimdal. I thank you for it." Heimdal said nothing, but nodded instead. "Sif."

"Here." Sif stepped forward. Her own eyes had been wiped clean of her tears.

"I feel that we share the greatest grief. But we cannot waste another minute. Thor would want us to end this battle once and for all."

"How?" said Fandral. "Laufey is hellbent on attacking us. I fear he will never stop."

"And he will not," Loki agreed. "Not unless we give him reason to."

"And what reason do we have?"

Loki stared out into the field. "None. But there will be one.

"Pull back the troops. I have a plan."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bjarke fought with every ounce of energy he had stowed away in him. His face bled from Mijolnir's blows, and his stomach ached with every step he took, but nothing stopped him from letting his mace fly at the enemy. What little hits he himself took in retaliation were nothing compared to the sweeping power of his own weapon. He sawed through enemy lines without pause, watching as man and elf went flying at his command.

And then, something strange began to happen. As Bjarke forced his way forward, the troops he fought began to retreat. He watched the Asgardian forces flee before him with a confused eye.

"Cowards!" he roared. He staggered where he stood, winded from all his fighting. He refused to let it weigh him down. Turning, he held his weapon high. "Follow them!" he demanded. "Chase them to the ends of the world! And do not let a single heathen live!"

The Jotun army cheered in agreement and began to thunder after the escaping troops. Bjarke turned to see two horses come his way, accompanied by Jarvi on foot. Soon, he was joined by the rest of his family. Turning, he followed the wave of soldiers towards the Asgardian battlements. "Victory is at hand, Father!" he called. "I can taste it!"

"Celebrate after you have won, Bjarke!" Laufey replied. "Perhaps as a reward, you may find yourself enjoying more than the spoils of war." From the horse beside him, Frey eyed his father with hidden disgust.

They raced further and further up, the soldiers ready to slaughter any and all forces that stood in their way. Bjarke could feel his glory inching ever closer towards him, and fought against his injuries to force himself faster. Soon, they were within fifty yards of the campsite.

_WHOOSH_

From nowhere, a row of giant, green flames sprung before them, creating a barricade between either side. The Jotuns skidded to a stop, Frey and Laufey's horses bucking at the sight. All of Laufey's forces stalled, staring at one another. The fire stretched for miles, leaving not a single inch of space to look inward.

"It's a trick!" Jarvi hissed. "One of Loki's illusions..." However, none of the Jotuns seemed ready to test that theory.

Looking around, Bjarke spotted a Jotun soldier to his right. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, he threw him forward. "Time to test it!" The Jotun went tumbling into the flame, and out the other side. They did not near his screams of pain, nor did see his skin catch fire. With a nod, they began to push through the green flames. It did not burn, and in fact, there was no feeling of pain at all. It was as tough they were walking through mist.

"Ha!" Bjarke let out a loud laugh as he stepped through the green light. "What a fool our brother has become if he thinks he can trick-!" And then, he stepped out to the other side.

Hundreds upon thousands of arrows stared back at him. All three armies - Asgard, Vanaheim, and Svartalfheim - had their arrows cocked and ready. Every Jotun soldier that stepped through the fire was now held at bay by the will of their enemies. One command, and hundreds of Jotuns would fall dead in an instant. The fire behind them died, and it was then that the real trick revealed himself.

Out walked Loki. On his shoulders was a cloak of fur and feathers. His face had been washed, and he held his chin high. He stood before his family, not an ounce of fear on his face. Beside him, Thor's war council stood, ready to protect him. "Hello, brothers. Father."

"Traitor-!" Bjarke made a move for Loki, but three arrows turned to him, threatening to hit their target if he took another step. Bjarke remained where he was. Loki didn't so much as flinch.

With a wave of his fingers, Loki spoke, his voice echoing throughout the field. "Brothers of Jotunheim. You know me, and yet you do not. I am Loki of Asgard. And I have been burdened with glorious purpose." He turned his eyes to Laufey, bold and without caution. "It is to end this bloodshed here and now. Forever."

Laufey sneered on his saddle. "Loki of Asgard... where is your beloved _king_ , you disgusting blasphemer?"

Though Loki paused, his face did not change. " _I_ am the new king of Asgard." There was commotion as the Jotuns looked to one another in shock. "Brothers of Jotunheim, my father does you all a disservice. We are not meant to war with these people until our dying day, but to live as neighbors in peace."

"We shall NEVER have peace with barbarians!" Bjarke shouted.

"Laufey would have you fight until your dying breath," Loki continued. "If it means never seeing your families again, never holding your wives or your children, he will force that sacrifice upon you. Is this the legacy you wish to leave behind? An army of dead men?" The Jotuns, very slowly, began to lower their weapons. Some, out of sight of the royal family, took one or two steps back.

"Enough of your lies," Laufey growled. "You are a coward and a blood-traitor. I will not have you taint my men with your spiked tongue!" He motioned to move forward, but someone stopped him. Someone who all were shocked to see. Urging his horse forward, Frey blocked Laufey with his own steed, now perpendicular to his father. He glared at Laufey, vigil in his conviction. "Move aside-"

"No. This has gone on far too long." Frey turned his head to his armies, sitting taller than he had been. "King Laufey is dying!" A shock wave went through all soldiers, even those opposite their own. Laufey's face turned poisonous, but he remained as he was. "Illness rots your king from his inside out. Rather than accept his death, he has condemned his own people to die alongside him! Loki speaks true! If you wish to live, to see your families again, you will end this war, or you will share your king's fate!"

"SILENCE!" The veins in Laufey's neck popped in anger as he screamed. "Once Loki has suffered for his betrayal, YOU shall be the next son I kill, cretin!"

"And if I take my army from your forces? What then?"

"Then I shall tare you apart by my own hand!"

 _Crrreek_. "Try and I will strike you down myself."

Now, all eyes turned to Jarvi. His bow was drawn, the same poison arrow that claimed Thor's life now directed itself to Laufey. Even a frost giant could not withstand the effects of its sting. With wild eyes, Laufey looked around him. Between his sons against him and his armies beginning to falter, the power he once wielded began to slip through his fingers like fine grains of sand.

With his father subdued, Frey turned to Loki. "We shall return home. When you are ready, I shall come myself and discuss the terms of our peace."

"Fools!" Laufey screamed. "The gods will judge you wanting, and you shall all burn eternally for your transgressions!"

"If that shall be our fate," said Loki calmly, "then I will gladly pay that price for the safety of innocent lives."

Frey nodded and motioned for the troops around him to turn and move. Little by little, they began to withdraw without a fight. The Asgardian forces began to relax their bows, and a calm air fell over both sides. Laufey looked around him haplessly, but no command could undo the damage of his sons' words. Though he still had months to live, Laufey was as good as dead.

" **NO!** "

In a sudden jerk, Bjarke broke from where he stood and made a mad dash for Loki. " **I WILL NOT COWER FROM MY DUTY AS A WARRIOR!** " Mace raised, he gunned for Loki, ready to end his brother in one fell swoop.

Just three feet away, he froze. Loki was too startled to move, and so he stood, staring at the force that stopped Bjarke. A pike, long and direct, had been thrust deep into Bjarke's neck. The Jotun's eyes were wide, his breath choking and sputtering with blood. At the end of that pike, holding it firmly, was Sif. She had thrown herself between the two just in the nick of time. Her dark eyes unafraid, she spoke.

" _You will not harm my king._ "

With that, she yanked the pike from Bjarke's throat. He stood as he was for a moment or two, a look of shock still settled on his face. As the life left his body, he fell to the ground, his eyes wide open.

Sif stood, letting her pike lower by her side. Turning, she and Loki's eyes met. A weary smile came to Loki's face, which Sif returned. It was all they needed.

Jarvi, his arrow still locked on Laufey, turned his head to where Loki stood. There was uncertainty in his eye. Frey spoke before he could. "Laufey," he said. "If you do not wish to follow in Bjarke's footsteps, I suggest you return home. There is much to discuss."

Laufey wanted to fight to the bitter end. His eyes fell to the corpse of Bjarke. There was a hesitance there, but with no other choice, he turned and trotted his horse away. Frey and Jarvi remained, and watched as Bjarke's body was hauled away from the field. Frey turned to his youngest brother with a nod. "This transition will not be easy."

"There is much to fix," Loki agreed. "But I feel it is possible. We must work closely together."

"We shall. But first, I must reunite the two kingdoms of Jotunheim." He sighed. "It was hard enough ruling one..."

Loki smiled smally. "I have faith in you, brother."

"And I, you." He turned his horse away. "Come, Jarvi."

But Jarvi lingered. He and Loki looked to one another. Both knew the rift between them, but things were different now. What words could heal the pain so soon? His heart heavy, Jarvi stepped forward. "Loki-"

Loki would not hear of it. His smile gone, he turned from Jarvi. Without a word, he walked further into the battlements, his Asgardian troops blocking Jarvi's path. Jarvi's shoulders drooped, and he stared where his brother had left, the gravity of his actions weighing on him. That's when Frey's hand lowered to him.

"Come," he repeated. "It is a new day. There is much work to be done." With one last look to where Loki had vanished, Jarvi climbed onto the saddle behind him. Together they rode, slowly following behind their retreating forces.

The war was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The summer was warm in Asgard that year. Beyond the sparking ocean and grand towers of the eternal city was the rolling hills past the forest lake. Grass grew wild, and summer flowers bloomed in the heavenly sun. Trees were just trickling away from the thicket of forest below, allowing for space to run and play. Among the blue sky and the luscious green grass, a pair of feet, bare, padded their way up the hillside. The owner of those feet made their way up to the top of the hill, and paused, staring at the sky above. It was a girl, no more than six years of age. Her golden hair was braided, but wild. She wore a dress of a fine make, but edged with dirt from her adventures. Her skin was pale in comparison to other Asgardians, belay her rosy cheeks, and her eyes were a huge, soft green. Miles from where she stood, large grey clouds, created by the warm air, lingered, rumbling deeply.

"Ah, there you are!"

The girl turned and spotted someone approaching. These days, Loki was calmer looking, more docile. His black hair had grown long, and was kept tied with so many gold strings and ribbons. On his forehead was a golden circlet, two small horns protruding from the forehead - an ode to his Jotun heritage. He wore robes of green and gold, and in his hand, he carried a scepter to match. Reaching the girl, he bent down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What brings you all the way out here, little one?"

Wordlessly, the girl pointed to the clouds. Loki followed her finger. "Ah," he mused. "Following the storm clouds, are we?" A sudden clap of distant thunder made the girl jump. Automatically, she threw herself into Loki's arms, hiding her face into the crux of his neck. Loki laughed kindly. "Come now... don't be frightened. Look here." He turned her out, the pair of them staring up at the thunderheads. "That is only your father, come to say hello. He misses you dearly. Will you not greet him?" Timidly, the little girl waved her hand. Another rumble - softer this time - answered her. Loki's smile widened, and he kissed her freckled cheek.

"There, you see? He has come to say how much he loves you." The girl stepped further out from Loki's arms, compelled by the clouds which scared her. Around her, the warm summer wind picked up, making her dress and hair dance. Loki stood upright, also watching the clouds from afar. His gaze grew loving and melancholy. It seemed that thunder clouds always made their way into Asgard one way or another over the years.

"Well." With a sigh, he turned away, headed back to the palace. "It is almost lunch time. We should return." He walked a few feet before pausing and looking over his shoulder. The girl remained where she was, staring. His smile returning, he called out to her:

"Thor!"

The girl turned swiftly, responding to her name. With a smile of her own, Thor ran up to Loki and took his hand. There, they walked together, the smell of rain just starting to settle on the world.

END.


End file.
